


we keep all our promises (be us against the world)

by sarcastic_fina



Series: us against the world [1]
Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: Dog Walking, F/M, Female Friendship, Friendship/Love, character growth, he has to find himself without that trauma, mentions of laurel/oliver on/off relationship, oliver doesn't end up going to the island
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-01-08
Updated: 2014-03-27
Packaged: 2018-01-08 00:24:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 83,564
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1126161
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sarcastic_fina/pseuds/sarcastic_fina
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>[au – no island] Oliver Queen has no idea what he's doing with his life, but when his father gives him an ultimatum, he has to figure it out. After meeting Felicity Smoak, he finds himself on a new path and his eyes are opened to what happiness really means and how finding it takes more courage than he ever thought he had.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Veera_Kara](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Veera_Kara/gifts).



> **Beautiful fic poster made by** : [dhfreak](http://dhfreak.tumblr.com/post/72956851210/we-keep-all-our-promises-be-us-against-the)  
>  **inspiration** : [gif](http://i1122.photobucket.com/albums/l522/fina_gifs/tumblr_m4q0e76gCW1ru4tifo1_500_zpsad5727b6.gif) ([source](http://movies-quotes.tumblr.com/post/23917316604))

 

**I**.

Oliver Queen met his future wife on a Wednesday.

"Hey, it's, uh, William, right?" he asked, flagging down a semi-familiar face as he walked through the floor his father's EA had informed him Robert was on.

With a raised eyebrow and a slightly amused lilt to his English accent, the man informed him, "Walter Steele. And what can I help you with, Oliver?"

"My dad. Connie said he was on this floor." He glanced around curiously. "Point me in the right direction?"

"Certainly. Last I saw him, he was speaking to the IT Director…" He pointed to a nearby hallway. "You'll likely find him down there. Straight to the end, large office, can't miss it."

"Great, thanks." He turned on his heel to leave, already board with his mission. His father had informed him, none too politely, that if had dropped out of yet another college he had better have a plan for his life, starting yesterday. Oliver did  _not_  have a plan for his life, but he  _did_  have a plan for distracting his father from forcing him to  _make_ that life plan. Just as he was walking down the hallway, however, he spotted a familiar face canted in his direction.

Heather…  _Something_.

Shit.

Heather was the one-night-stand from hell.

Fine, she was the two-night-stand from hell since he hadn't learned his lesson the first time and he was a little too drunk to recognize her when they ran into each other at Club Onyx. She was clingy and desperate to prove they could make it work outside the bedroom. But Oliver was on a break from Laurel, one of many, and he was sure once she cooled down from their latest argument, he'd been back in her good graces and out of the beds of all the Heather's of the world. But that didn't help him right now and, well, he was a coward.

Later in life, he would credit that cowardice with saving him from a downward spiral he wasn't even aware he was in.

Just as Heather stepped into view and very clearly recognized him, he turned left, stepping into what appeared to be the coffee room. There was one person inside, a blonde woman wrinkling her nose at whatever she'd just dug out of the company fridge. She tossed what appeared to be an open yogurt away and dusted off her hands.

He pounced.

He grinned charmingly down at her. "Hi, you don't know me, but just go along with this, all right?"

She looked up at him in surprise and readjusted her glasses. "What?"

He ignored her question and waved a hand at her curiously. "What's your name?"

"Felicity… Smoak."

He repeated her first name to himself, twice, trying to get it to sound familiar, and then nodded. "Okay. We met over coffee, we've been seeing each other for… three weeks…? Yeah, that sounds about right. Three weeks, and I'm completely in love with you."

She blinked at him. "I…  _What?_ "

"Oliver!"

He looked up abruptly, smiling widely. "Hi…" His brow furrowed, feigning confusion.

Her smile waned as she pointed to herself. "Heather." She walked toward him, her hips swaying exaggeratedly.

A subtle snort beside him drew his and he found Felicity muffling her amusement, biting her lip. She had pretty lips, painted a bright pink.

Shaking his head of the distraction, he turned back to the woman in front of him. "Right, Heather." He snapped his fingers and pointed at her. "I didn't know you worked here…"

"Oh." She waved a dismissive hand. "Not on this floor. I'm actually two down. But I needed help with my boss's computers and the grunts were happy to help, so…"

"I'm sure they appreciate being called grunts, too," Felicity muttered.

Heather's eyes cut toward her, an eyebrow raised. "I'm sorry. And you are?"

"This is Felicity," Oliver piped up, his arm wrapping around her waist, hand settling on her hip and pulling her tightly against his side. "My girlfriend."

Brows raised, Heather motioned between them. "You and her… you're together?"

With a disinterested sigh, Felicity wondered, "Who exactly is working on your boss's computer?"

"Mark Something," Heather replied, before cutting her eyes toward Oliver. "Exactly how long have you been together, Ollie? Because it doesn't feel like you were single so long ago…"

"A few weeks now." He hugged Felicity, rubbing a hand up and down her arm. "Ran into each other in a coffee shop and I feel for her on sight."

Heather didn't look convinced and gave Felicity a look over. Oliver found himself doing the same. She was short, only reaching his shoulder, with square glasses, a red silk blouse and a dark black pencil skirt, the last two of which capitalized on her curves. Her hair was tied back in a ponytail, long and wavy. She was pretty in that innocent, girl-next-door kind of way, which wasn't usually his type, but then, once upon a time, Tommy said anyone with breasts and a pulse was Oliver's type.

"Really?" Heather's lip curled. "How quaint."

"The quaintest," Felicity returned. "Shouldn't you be checking on that computer? I know Mark. He's good at his job. It's probably ready."

The dismissal was clear and Heather shot her an icy look before turning to Oliver. "When you get tired of playing house, you know where to find me." She winked before she walked out and, while Oliver knew she wasn't in his best interest, he did enjoy the view as she left.

A throat clearing drew his attention and he turned to his fake girlfriend, offering a boyish grin. "Thank you. Heather's a bit of a…" He trailed off, making a face.

"Just so we're clear, you ran up to the first woman you saw, forced her into pretending to be your girlfriend, and insulted a woman you  _definitely_ slept with because…" She shook her head, waving a hand. "You're a coward who can't just tell someone you're not interested in anything long term."

His eyes turned up in thought as he absorbed her words. "Yes…" he said, slowly. "But, in my defense—"

"In your defense, you're the son of my boss, so I probably shouldn't tell you that what you just did was sad and pathetic and as much as I don't appreciate a complete stranger looking down on me, I actually feel bad for that woman for ever wasting her time sleeping with you in the first place." Standing a little taller, her chin tilted up stubbornly, she added, "And just so  _you're_  aware, son of my boss or not, what you just did could have been seen as sexual harassment and put this company and your father's job at risk. So maybe the next time you have a little trouble in your personal life, you put on your big boy pants and face it."

Turning on her heel, she stalked toward the door, muttering under her breath about privileged men taking advantage and never owning up to things. He stared after her, his mouth agape and his brow furrowed.

A familiar chuckle caught his attention then and he watched his father step in front of the door, smiling down the hall at the irritated woman before he stepped into the coffee room, his hands tucked into his pockets. "I see you're charming my staff, Oliver…"

He sighed, rolling his eyes. "It was a misunderstanding."

"You know, I personally hired Miss Smoak. She was an outstanding student at MIT. Graduated early with honors. I had to fight Stellmoor International  _and_ Wayne Enterprises to get her hired here. Somehow I don't think when she agreed to work for me that she thought she'd be standing in as your fake girlfriend when one of your… previous bed partners tried to rekindle something."

He sighed, frowning. "It was a mistake. I'll apologize to her if you're worried about a lawsuit."

Robert shook his head, looking disappointed. "If you're going to apologize, it shouldn't be because I want you to, or because you're worried about how it'll reflect on my company. You should apologize because you just put her in a very awkward position. You took advantage of her confusion and possibly your position as my son, and  _that_ , Oliver… is something worth being sorry over."

Oliver stared at him, a pressure on his chest that he didn't like. While he'd never quite lived up to what his parents wanted him to and was very familiar with that look of disappointment, it never failed to make him feel like complete shit. "Okay…" he finally said, nodding. "I get it."

Robert nodded. "Now, you wanted to talk to me?"

Sighing, he stepped forward, nodding. "Can we go to your office?"

"Sure." He waved a hand telling him to follow and together they made their way back toward the elevator.

On the way, Oliver spotted Felicity across the room, talking to one of the other tech workers. She was smiling, her lips stretched wide, and he remember how he'd thought she was just pretty, a little above average. When she smiled, she was beautiful, and he found himself tipping his head, watching her a moment longer.

Feeling his gaze, she glanced over and caught his curious stare. She, however, frowned at him before walking out of sight.

That was new.

* * *

Oliver returned to the IT Department the following day.

He had a bouquet of the most attractive and expensive flowers the shop a block over was selling. With his most charming smile to back him, he made his way through the floor, searching out a familiar blonde.

He tried the coffee room first and then aimlessly searched cubicle to cubicle until he spotted her ponytail.

When he stepped up behind her, he found she was in the middle of eating her lunch.

"So, do I need to grovel, or can I do this standing up?" he said in greeting.

She jumped in her seat and whirled around, eyes wide as she found him standing there. A second later, however, her shock had disappeared and was replaced with resignation. "What? Did you run into Heather and tell her we had a fight and now you have to publically make it up to me?" she wondered, already looking exasperated with him.

"No… This has nothing to do with Heather. This is me apologizing for my behaviour yesterday." He held the flowers out to her. "I was out of line. I shouldn't have taken advantage of you or forced you into pretending to be my girlfriend." He grinned flirtatiously. "Forgive me?"

She waved a hand up to brush the flowers aside and stared up at him, brow raised. "Why exactly are you apologizing?"

He paused. That was not how this usually went. He glanced away and then tried, "Like I said, I shouldn't have taken advantage of you."

"You shouldn't have lied."

He frowned. "To who? To Heather?" He shook his head. "Trust me, you don't know her, she's… clingy."

Arms crossed over her chest, she asked, "How well do  _you_ know her?"

He smirked, tipping his head at her. " _Intimately_."

Felicity rolled her eyes and stood from her chair. "Just because you have sex with someone, doesn't mean you  _know_  them," she said, quietly enough that no one overheard her. "What happens behind closed doors is your business. But by bringing it to work and putting me in the position you did, you  _made_ it my business. And what you did, creating a fake girlfriend so you didn't have to tell her you weren't interested in being with her outside of a one-night stand, probably took a lot more effort, and created a lot more drama than necessary."

He sighed, shoulders slumping and flowers falling to his side. "You're not going to accept my apology, are you?"

"When you know why you're apologizing," she told him, her eyebrows hiked, " _then_  I'll accept your apology."

"Fine, I was a coward. I should've just talked to Heather. She's a human-being and I shouldn't have treated her that way. Or you." He waved a hand in the air in a ' _blah blah blah_ ' motion. "Now. Flowers?"

Hands on her hips, Felicity let out a heavy sigh, not unlike the kind his mother used when he was being obnoxious. "Please go away… before I lose my job for insulting the boss's son."

His jaw ticked and he started to feel his hackles raise. "I don't know why you're getting so bent out of shape. You don't even know Heather, and she wasn't exactly nice to you."

"Well, maybe part of that was a defense mechanism since she'd been hoping you might see her as something more than a one-night stand and you rubbed a new relationship in her face," she bit back.

His mouth fell open but no argument came to him.

With a huff, she turned her back on him and retook her seat, dismissing him completely.

Muttering under his breath, Oliver turned on his heel and walked away, dropping her flowers in a waste basket as he went. He took the elevator down to the main floor and decided no, noon wasn't too early to get a drink. He needed one after that fiasco.

* * *

Oliver spent three days trying to figure out why Felicity Smoak disliked him so much. People loved him.  _Women_ especially loved him. And it wasn't as if he'd insulted her specifically. He'd picked her to be his girlfriend, who he was  _madly_  in love with. That should be a compliment! She should feel proud that she garnered that much attention.

When he told Tommy about it, they were sitting in a strip bar. It was no dive, specifically catering to men of wealth and pushing the confidentiality clause to keep business flowing. There was a pretty red-head that called herself, the all too clichéd,  _Candi_  doing a dance for them, smiling as Tommy waved a wad of cash at her and wiggled his eyebrows suggestively.

"She completely shut me down.  _Twice_ ," Oliver complained.

"I don't know why you're getting so upset about this. She did what you wanted her to. She scared off Heather." He shrugged. "So what if your dad told you she deserved an apology? You tried and she rejected it. Not your fault." He leaned back in his chair and glanced at him. "Even if she tries for a harassment suit, your dad's lawyers will shut it down fast."

He shook his head. "No, she won't. I think she was just making a point."

"What kind of point?"

"I don't know. That my behaviour could've been seen differently by someone else." He sighed, crossing his arms over his chest. "She told me she wouldn't accept my apology until I knew what I was apologizing for."

Tommy laughed. "That is some real live girlfriend bull right there."

Oliver's brow furrowed in confusion. "What do you mean?"

"You went in for a fake girlfriend and you got a real girlfriend lecture." He shook his head, amused. "Only you, my friend."

Rolling his eyes, Oliver turned his attention back to the show in front of him.

Whatever. Who cared if Felicity Smoak liked him or not? He'd probably never see her again.

* * *

Raisa's birthday was on Saturday and he was making a last minute trip to a bookstore he knew of that carried one of her favorite authors. Now some might say that Oliver buying a very specific gift for one of the staff members that worked for his family was out of character for him, but that was only if they didn't know Raisa. She had practically raised him, his go-to for comfort when he scraped his knees and the motherly force that often tried to set him on the right path in life with a few words of wisdom. Simply put, he adored her, and he knew that the only gift she would truly appreciate was something he put thought into. So he went browsing through the Russian section for a book she didn't yet own, which was a hard thing to find considering her sprawling collection of books in her mother tongue. It also didn't help that what little Russian he did now was what she'd taught him over the year, and it was probably nothing he should say in polite company.

He'd just found the book he was looking for when he heard muttering and looked over to see a familiar blonde browsing the shelves. It was the ponytail and the oversized MIT sweatshirt that gave her away. He was walking toward her before his brain could tell him there were probably plenty of blonde women who went to MIT.

She had three books in her arms and a finger tracing the spice of a fourth, her teeth pressed into her bottom lip when he reached her.

"Hi."

She looked over abruptly, her brows hiked a little, and then frowned. "Uh, hi…" She glanced around uncertainly.

"I'm not following you," he blurted out, suddenly feeling defensive.

"Which is exactly what someone would say if they  _were_ following me…"

His lips twitched. Shaking his head, he asked, "Look, can we start over?" He held a hand out. "I'm Oliver Queen, it's nice to meet you."

She glanced at his hand and, after a moment's pause, reached out to shake it. "Felicity Smoak."

Her hand was small compared to his, dainty, with bright purple fingernails and a silver ring on her thumb.

"Would you… Do you want to get a cup of coffee with me?" he wondered.

She stared up at him. "I don't know. Apparently the last time we were in a coffee shop together, you fell madly in love with me."

Her voice was filled with mirth and he ducked his head as he laughed, scratching a finger at his temple.

"Never know, could've been a prophecy of sorts," he told her, raising an eyebrow.

She let out a faint sigh and looked away. "Listen, it's nice of you to try so hard to apologize or… whatever it is you're doing. But, you really don't have to." She shrugged, hugging an arm around her books. "I've thought about it and, it's your life. Who you choose to be with, how you choose to be, that's all up to you. You don't need a complete stranger telling you that your choices are questionable. So I rescind my previous statement. You are forgiven." She waved a hand. "Forgiven you are."

He blinked. "Did you just Yoda me?"

She smiled, her cheeks flushed, and shook her head. "It was nice meeting you, Oliver." With that, she turned on her heel to walk away, only to pause, return, reach past him for the book she'd been admiring, wave it at him awkwardly, and then rush off to the front desk to pay for them.

He watched her go, all the while thinking she was completely unexpected, and he didn't know why he liked it so much.

* * *

Laurel took him back the following afternoon, and he didn't think about Felicity for three blissful weeks of being back in Laurel's good graces. She forgave him for, well, being himself and dropping out of school without a word of warning, and he promised he was going to clean his act up, for good this time. She asked him about college, he distracted her with wine. She asked him about getting a job, he distracted her with sex. Same old, same old.

When he saw Felicity again, she was walking a dog through Starling Central Park. He was an ugly little thing, white with grey spots, scraggly fur, and the goofiest face Oliver had ever seen on a dog.

"What  _is_ that?" he wondered as he sidled up to her on her walk.

"Hey! Don't insult him!" she exclaimed. "His name is Rufus, and he's sensitive."

The dog didn't look sensitive at all. He tottered ahead, completely unaware of Oliver's comments on his appearance, wagging his bent tail, tongue lolling out of his mouth.

"Where'd you find him? Like, a back alley or something?"

"A shelter." She shrugged. "He's not mine. I just volunteer to walk the dogs sometimes."

He blinked at her. "A good Samaritan then?"

She rolled her eyes. "Sure, if you want to think about it that way. It also gives me a break from computers though." She raised a hand to stall whatever he might've said. "Don't get me wrong, I love my job at QC, and I studied my butt of at MIT so I could get into this field, but they don't warn you about how much your butt cramps from sitting too long. Or, I guess those suggestions about getting up and walking around were a warning, but I never remember to do that, so I just suffer through the discomfort and then, before you know it, day's over…"

"So you take ugly dogs out for walks to relieve butt cramps…" He laughed under his breath. "Well, that's… that's different."

She glared at him, but it carried no heat. "And what are you doing out here? I don't see any strobe lights or cameras."

He shrugged. "Much to the disappointment of the paparazzi, I'm not  _always_ in clubs."

"No, occasionally you go to QC to harass strangers."

"One time," he argued, wagging a finger. "And I'd like to think she's warming up to me."

"Frankly, she's still a little surprised you keep finding her… and not completely sure you aren't stalking her."

"Serendipity," he said, shrugging. "It's probably a sign."

"Really?" she asked, unconvinced. "And what sign would that be?"

"I don't know. I'm hoping a good one."

She raised an eyebrow and shook her head. And then she held the leash out for him. "Here. Hold this."

"What?" He looked down at the leash uncertainly. "Why?"

"What, are you afraid somebody might see you walking an ugly dog?"

He eyed Rufus hesitantly. "I've never walked one before. What do I have to do?"

She looked surprised. "You've  _never_  walked a dog?"

He shook his head. "My mom is allergic. We have horses, but they're mostly for show."

"Uh-huh…" She reached for his hand and wrapped it around the leather handle of the leash. "He's small, he won't pull you. Just let him sniff things and pee and he's fine. But don't let him get too close to other dogs, he's kind of territorial."

"Why? It's not his park."

"Yeah, well, dogs don't really pay much attention to ownership. It's more like, 'if I peed on it, it's mine.' Obviously, he's a boy."

He hummed, warily holding the leash upright for a while. When Rufus didn't race off or freak out, he gradually began to relax. "So this is all you do after work? Just walk him?"

"Sometimes I take him to the field and through a b-a-l-l for him to chase." She shrugged. "I have to have him back at the shelter before six-thirty."

"What happens if he gets adopted?"

"Then they give me a different dog to walk." She blew into her cold hands to warm them up and then tucked them into the pockets of her jacket. "Rufus is my first. Well, I used to walk dogs back home, but when I moved to Cambridge for school, I was too busy. So he's my first here in Starling."

"Where'd you grow up?" he wondered.

"Not far from here, over in Coast City. After MIT I wanted to be closer to home and this seemed like a good place to work, so…"

He tipped his head, looking at over at her curiously. "Dad said you had offers from Wayne Enterprises and Stellmoor."

She smiled, nodding. "I did. But my dad was worried about Gotham's crime rate and, I don't know, I didn't really like Stellmoor." She wrinkled her nose and scrunched up her mouth in a way he found distinctly cute.

Clearing his throat, he offered, "Well, I might be biased, but I think you made the right choice."

She chuckled. "You're not wrong."

As they walked around a bend in the walking path, Oliver spotted a field up ahead, filled with various people and their dogs. "Did you bring a ball?"

Immediately, Rufus caught on and started jumping around, running circles and panting excitedly.

Oliver looked awkward and held the leash out for her.

Felicity merely grinned, forcing him to hold it still. "He's just happy. He knows that word."

Nodding, he tugged on the leash to get Rufus to follow him as they headed toward the open field. When they found an open area, Felicity leaned down to detach the leash from his collar.

Oliver felt a buzzing against his chest and reached into his jacket to get his phone. Laurel's name stared back at him, the phone vibrating for attention.

"Do you need to get that?" Felicity asked, kneeling beside the still ugly Rufus, scratching his ears.

He stared at her, her cheeks red from the cool breeze, her hair down from its usual pony tail, and he shook his head. "No." He tucked the phone away. "I can call them back."

She smiled and stood, digging a ball out from her pocket. "What's this?" she asked Rufus, showing it to him.

He hopped back on his hind legs and sniffed the air hopefully.

Grinning, she turned on her heel and threw the ball as far as she could.

Rufus took off, chasing after it, happily grabbing it up out of the grass and racing back toward them. He dropped the slobbery ball at her feet and, without even flinching, she grabbed it up and threw it again, smiling cheerfully as he went bounding after it.

Oliver's gaze bounced between her and the dog, curious and confused about why he was enjoying himself when so little was happening. He was used to things being in overdrive. He enjoyed himself more when energy was high, dancing in clubs, having sex, that was when he was at his best. But here, things were slow, relaxed, a back and forth of ball and dog.

"Do you want to throw it?" she asked him.

He looked down at the bright red ball she held, sticky with grass clinging to it, and he hesitantly reached out and plucked it from her hand. "This is disgusting," he informed her.

She merely smiled.

He pulled his arm back and flung the ball forward, faster and farther than she had.

She clapped for him, bouncing on the tips of her toes. "See? You're a natural!"

His chest puffed up with pride and, when Rufus returned, he found himself throwing it again and again in a bid to show off. It wasn't until Rufus came back and plopped down on his belly, too tired to play anymore, that Oliver finally stopped.

"Aww," Felicity cooed, kneeling down to pet her hand down Rufus' back. "You're pooped."

"Well, it's not easy throwing those balls either," Oliver told her.

She laughed and looked up at him. "Did you want a rub down too?" She paused, her eyes wide. "Non-sexually. I did  _not_ mean that the way that it came out."

He laughed, his head falling back, his chest vibrating with his humor.

"It's not funny! I put my foot in my mouth all the time. I can't believe I said that! And after I told you that what you did could be construed as sexual harassment, oh my god…"

His hand pressed to his stomach as he shook his head, still laughing. "It was a nice offer."

" _Oliver_ ," she muttered, disgruntled.

He didn't know why, but he liked the way she said his name.

Looking down at her, a pink hue to her skin from embarrassment, he felt something soften in his chest, and he didn't understand it at all.

"Come on." She stood, reattaching Rufus' leash as she went. "I think it's time I brought this guy back to the shelter." She held a hand out for the ball and put it away inside her pocket. "Thanks for helping out… I imagine this wasn't in your plan for your afternoon."

He shrugged. "I had fun. Thanks for letting me tag along."

"Sure." She tipped her head as she looked up at him. "You ever feel like doing it again, the shelter over on 23rd street has plenty of dogs that need someone to walk them."

He looked down at Rufus, with his goofy face and his lopsided ears. "Do they all look like that?" he wondered.

Clucking her tongue, she shoved his shoulder and turned to leave. "You're a terrible person," she called back, but her voice was light and teasing.

He smiled to himself, and wondered if every time he watched her go he'd feel like he wanted her to stay.

* * *

Things with Laurel were going well. They got back into their old routine of her being mostly busy with law school and him filling his days with whatever trouble he and Tommy could stir up. His nights, at least when Laurel wasn't studying, were spent with her. And when she was studying, he and Tommy hit the best clubs and drank until they couldn't see anymore.

The morning after, however, was never fun.

"Oliver, it's three in the afternoon," his mother's chastising voice came through the door of his bedroom. "When are you getting up?'

"I'm up," he groaned from his bed, rolling over and burying his face in his pillows.

"You told your father you were going to start shadowing him at QC today," she reminded. "He's very disappointed you weren't up and ready to go this morning."

Oliver was pretty sure his dad wasn't disappointed. In fact, he probably wasn't even surprised.

"All right, mom, I'll talk to him," he called back, irritably.

" _Today_ , Oliver."

"Okay!" he sighed.

When he heard her footsteps leaving down the hall, he relaxed, and fell right back to sleep. He would apologize to his dad at dinner.

* * *

Things fell apart that Sunday.

"Let me put this in terms you'll understand," Robert said, turning to face him. "If you don't get your head on straight, I'm cutting you off."

Oliver's brow furrowed and he laughed in confusion. "What?"

"You either need to get into school, and  _stay_ in school, or you need to start coming to work with me to get some hands-on experience. Because if you don't, that trust fund I have set up for you is getting frozen and you're going to have to learn the hard way that life doesn't just get handed to you on a platter. You need to  _earn_ it."

He sighed, his head falling back. "Dad, come on…" He shook his head. "I know I screwed up, but cutting me off? Don't you think that's a little overboard?"

"What's overboard is that I have worked very hard to build this family up and you have done nothing but flout your responsibilities and make an ass of yourself in the public eye." He shook his head. "Peeing on a cop, Oliver?"

"I… I was really drunk. I don't…" He laughed awkwardly. "I don't know what I was thinking."

"You  _weren't_. You weren't thinking. And I'm tired of it."

" _Dad…_ "

"You have two options. Shape up or fend for yourself." Leaving it at that, Robert crossed the den to the door.

"Dad… Dad, come on, let's talk about this!"

But his father didn't stop or give him a chance to change his mind, and Oliver sunk down onto the couch and buried his face in his hands.

What the hell was he supposed to do now?

* * *

"Well, maybe this is a good thing," Laurel said as she joined him in her living room.

"How? How is my father cutting me off from the only money I have a  _good_ thing?" he wondered, disgruntled with how positive she was being.

"Now you don't have that safety net." She shrugged her shoulders high and half-smiled. "You have to admit, you don't really have to try with it there. You always know you can fall back on that, so if you screw up, it'll be okay. Now, if you don't have that, you have to put the effort in."

He sighed, falling back against the couch. "I don't want to be in school… I don't fit there. I don't like it. It's…  _boring_. And I feel dumb in every class. I just…" he trailed off.

The problem with telling her any of this was that he knew she didn't understand. Laurel was smart. She did amazing in school and she never doubted her intelligence. While she preened under the gaze of any instructor, Oliver wilted, and he hated that feeling.

"So maybe college isn't where you want to be. But your dad said you could shadow him, so why not try that?"

He shook his head. "And what? Wait for him to retire so I can become CEO?" His eyes shot wide as he laughed incredulously. "Can you see me there? Running that whole thing?"

She smiled and shuffled across the couch. "I don't know… You in a suit with your own office…" She bit her lip as she crawled into his lap. "I can see that."

He grinned and tipped his head to the side as she buried her mouth at his neck.

He put aside the current issue and focused on her. It was a lot easier than admitting that no, he  _couldn't_ see himself in that desk, in that office, wearing that suit.  _Ever_.

* * *

His mother left a stack of college applications in his room.

He took them with him and left them on the passenger seat as he drove into town.

The animal shelter on 23rd street was a little on the run down inside, but he walked inside with all the confidence he'd ever possessed. Walking up to the front desk, he wrapped his knuckles on the top and said, "Hi, uh, I want to sign up to walk dogs..."

The woman behind the counter eyed him curiously. "Any specific reason?"

He offered a charming grin. "I have some extra time on my hands and a friend of mine told me about this shelter."

"A friend huh…" she eyed him suspiciously.

He briefly considered making a crack about having an underground dog fighting ring, but then decided it probably wouldn't land right.

"Felicity Smoak," he said instead. "She walks a dog named Rufus. Funny looking thing, really likes to play fetch…"

The woman before him immediately softened, a smile forming on her lips. "Oh, Felicity is a regular here. She's been a great help." Her smile faded however as she added, "I was so sorry to hear about Rufus."

His brow furrowed. "I'm sorry?"

She looked up at him sadly. "They had to put him down yesterday. He'd been with the shelter for quite some time and he was quite a bit older than the other dogs. We have a policy here and when his time expired, they decided to put him down." She sighed, shaking her head.

Despite only having met the dog once, Oliver felt a distinct stab to his chest at the news.

Moving on, the woman continued, "Now, the application process for dog walking takes a little bit of time. We have to do a background check and you'll have to be interviewed before we can release any dogs to your care. There's some papers you'll have to fill out, just hold on a second…" She dug around under the counter and came up with a small bundle. "Here. You can fill them out while you're here or you can bring them back later."

He nodded, still distracted by the news of Rufus, and took the papers from her. Knowing he'd never finish them if he took them home, he took a seat in the waiting room area and filled out all the papers. When he was finished, he dropped them off with her and then left, climbing into his car and driving aimlessly for a while. He called QC and had them transfer him to the IT Department but when he asked for Felicity Smoak, he was told she was out sick. While he knew he could probably finagle her address out of them, being the boss's son and all, he decided against it. Honestly, he wasn't even sure what he would do with it. Upset over Rufus or not, he didn't imagine she'd take too well to him showing up at her apartment out of the blue. He hadn't talked to or seen her since he'd run into her and Rufus at the park two weeks earlier, but some part of him felt obligated to finding her.

Before he knew it, he was driving to the park. He walked the same path as before, passing various people and dogs on the way, and remembered how goofy Rufus had looked. Happy, though. He'd never seen a dog look so cheerful. It didn't take him long to reach the park and he found himself scanning it. The odds of finding her there were slim; she was probably at home, curled up in bed in that oversized MIT sweatshirt of hers.

But then he spotted her, sitting in the grass, a leash held tight in her grip.

He walked toward her, uncertain how to broach the subject and worried he might say the wrong thing.

"Hey…"

Felicity look up, startled, and quickly wiped under her eyes as she saw him. "Hey." She sniffled. "Sorry. I—I didn't think I'd see anybody here."

"In a public park?"

She smiled faintly. "That I knew."

He nodded and took a seat beside her, eyeing the leash in her hand. "I heard about Rufus… I'm sorry."

Her hand tightened around the leash and she offered him a watery smile. "Thanks. I…" She shook her head. "I know he wasn't the prettiest dog, but he was really sweet and friendly and…" She let out a shuddering breath. "If I'd known they were going to put him down, I would've adopted him."

He let out a heavy breath, nodding at her as he reached over, an arm coming around her shoulders, rubbing her arm gently.

"I should've asked…" She swallowed thickly and rubbed the heel of her hand against the corner of her eye. "I should've told them I'd take him."

"You didn't know," he reminded.

She looked up at him, tears spilling down her cheeks. "He was a really good dog," she breathed, her voice cracking.

Oliver's heart thumped hard in his chest. He hugged her to his side, resting his head against hers when it fell to his shoulder. "I'm sorry you lost him."

She nodded, hiccupping on her tears.

Oliver wasn't used to this. To comforting people. When Tommy was down, Oliver just ordered a round of shots and pointed him toward the next pretty face. When Laurel was upset, she usually went to her sister, not him. There were a few times when she fought with her dad and she came to him, but he'd found ways to distract her. He wasn't good with crying or feelings; they made him feel awkward and out of his depth, often leading to him avoiding whoever was upset or finding a reason to be somewhere else.

But he sat there with Felicity, rubbing circles on her back as she cried, letting her use his shoulder to hold herself up. He watched as life continued on around him; people walking, talking, dogs chasing balls and their tails and barking at birds. He sat there, holding a broken-hearted woman, and he realized that the world didn't stop because she was sad. Just like it wouldn't stop just because he didn't know what he wanted to do with his life. They were just two people in a world of billions. He was just one man, one person, and, like Laurel had shouted at him in a number of fights, the world didn't revolve around him.

When Felicity lifted her head, she swiped at her face, brushing away tear tracks and rubbing under her nose. "I'm sorry…" She wiped at the shoulder of his shirt. "That's probably designer."

He chuckled under his breath. "Probably."

She looked up at him and offered a faint smile. "Thank you. I'm sure you didn't come here for me to blubber all over you."

"Can't say it was in my day planner, but…" He shrugged.

Tucking her hair behind her ears, she twisted the leash in her hand, and then, brows furrowed, she wondered, "How did you find out about Rufus?"

"Oh, I…" He shrugged, suddenly feeling embarrassed for a reason he didn't quite understand. "I, uh, went to the shelter to see if I could sign up to walk dogs."

Her brows hiked. "You did?"

"Don't sound so surprised."

She half-smiled. "I think it's great, I just… Well, I'm not sure they were expecting Oliver Queen to waltz in and ask for a leash."

He shrugged. "Lady at the desk didn't seem to recognize me… She did recognize your name though."

"You name-dropped me?" she asked, looking amused.

"Figured you had a good reputation. They might take pity and let me take a dog for a spin right away."

She frowned. "What's going on that you need dog therapy?"

He stared at her a moment and considered telling her about what was going on with his dad and him and how his life was a complete mess that didn't look like it was going to get cleaned up anytime soon. But then he didn't. Because she had enough on her plate and, while he was sure she'd probably try to help him gain clarity, this wasn't about him.

He stood from the ground and dusted the grass off his pants.

"Come on," he said, holding a hand out for her to take. "Let's get coffee and… you can tell me your best memories with Rufus."

She let him help her up, taking his outstretched hand. Her head tipped as she considered him a moment, as if she wasn't sure she wanted to let him get away with not telling her what was going on. But then she nodded and stepped toward the walking path. "That'd be nice," she told him.

He offered her an elbow and she laughed lightly under her breath before she hooked her arm through his.

"When I first met him, he sneezed in my face," she started.

He laughed, turning to look at the sweet smile on her lips, and he realized his day, which started out complicated and uncertain, just got a lot better with her there.

* * *

After he left Felicity, he was feeling good, until he drove home. The college applications mocked him from the passenger seat. His father told him he had two options; together or solo. Simply put, Oliver knew school wasn't where he wanted to be. He also knew that he didn't want to be in an office at QC, but it was the lesser of two evils.

He found his father in his office at home, going over a stack of papers so thick, Oliver's eyes were already going cross just thinking about reading them.

"Oliver," his father said, never looking up.

He ground his teeth a little before he said, "I'll shadow you. Tomorrow. I'll be there every step of the way."

"Will you?" his father asked, finally laying a pen down to look up at him, a brow raised. "I think I've heard this before."

His hands balled into fists, but he offered his dad a fake smile, one that was all too familiar with his face. "Bright and early, I'll be up and ready to go."

Robert stared at him a moment before giving a sharp nod. "Okay then."

Oliver nodded and turned on his heel to leave. But a pit had formed in his stomach, and it told him he was making the wrong decision.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Beautiful fic poster made by** : [dhfreak](http://dhfreak.tumblr.com/post/72956851210/we-keep-all-our-promises-be-us-against-the)  
>  **inspiration** : [gif](http://i1122.photobucket.com/albums/l522/fina_gifs/tumblr_m4q0e76gCW1ru4tifo1_500_zpsad5727b6.gif) ([source](http://movies-quotes.tumblr.com/post/23917316604))

 

 **II**.

When Oliver got a call from the shelter to come in for an interview, he was in the middle of a game of hide and seek with Thea. While crouched in a closet, ducked behind dusty suits of his grandfather's that his dad had never gotten rid of, he scheduled it for his lunch break at QC, in a whisper so his sister wouldn't hear him if she was nearby. Mid-conversation, however, she threw open the door of the closet and screamed, "Found you!" before she giggled, running off as she yelled back at him to count to a 100. While she was off hiding, he took his 'count to 100' to finish making plans with the shelter in a normal pitch of voice, explaining that it was really the only time that would work for him.

For the last week, he'd been following his dad around at QC, observing the most boring conference meetings he'd ever had to sit through in his life, putting on a show as he greeted each new person, learning names and terminology and the ins and outs of the business landscape. He was used to pasting on a fake smile, but having to do it for such an extended period of time was starting to wear on him. All of it, shadowing his dad, playing the good son who was eager to learn… He hated every second of it.

Well, except one part.

Felicity's lunch break was the same time as his. Admittedly, he might've set that up specifically with his dad, who had to push his usual lunch back an hour, though Oliver had left out the detail of  _why_ he needed that exact time off. He assured himself that it was only because he wanted to be around someone who actually knew him, someone he didn't have to put on airs for. And maybe that was why he spent so much time watching the clock, eager for it to strike 12, so he could meet her just as she was leaving her cubicle and they could ride the elevator down together.

Felicity preferred to eat outside, taking in the fresh air as she ate her homemade lunch, seated on the cement ledges that flanked either side of the building. Though Oliver's father had lunch brought in each afternoon and even asked him to join him in his office, after long mornings spent at his side, Oliver was eager for some time away from it all. While he never actually said that was why, he was pretty sure his father suspected it was something like that, since he stopped asking him to stick around after the third missed lunch.

Today, he went by Felicity's cubicle early to tell her he'd miss their usual lunch.

She had a head-set on and was between calls when he touched her shoulder.

Looking up, she smiled. "Hey…" She glanced at the clock. "You're early. I can't clock out until 12."

He nodded. "I can't make it today, actually. I just wanted to come by and let you know."

" _Oh_." Her brows rose a little and he was pretty sure that was disappointment he read in the set of her mouth.

He stifled a smile. She'd been the only highlight of the last week, so he couldn't say he wasn't disappointed too, but it was an interesting change to how disdainful she'd been of him in the beginning. They'd come a long way from her being his fake girlfriend; now, he'd call her his friend. Of course, he also hadn't told anyone about her, so maybe that worked against them. The last Tommy had heard of Felicity, she was the ballbuster that was quick to put him in his place and shoot down his apology.

There were a number of times that he considered telling Tommy that he'd managed to befriend Felicity, but each time the opportunity came up, he found himself playing out how he thought the conversation would go. Somehow, it always led to sly comments about when he was going to sleep with her or if he could hook Tommy up with her, what she looked like, if she'd be a good time, if he thought the carpet matched the drapes. And for reasons he didn't quite understand, he didn't like that. He didn't want to share Felicity with Tommy and he didn't want to write her off as one of the many women he'd spent a forgettable night or two with. She was different. She stood out. And, for right now, she was just his.

"I have a meeting at the shelter. If all goes well, I might have my own Rufus soon."

A small but genuine smile curled her lips then. She was still hurting over Rufus, but she was sincerely happy that he was taking up a place with another dog. While she'd been offered one to walk, she had decided to put it off for a bit while she healed.

"You're going to do great," she told him, reaching out to rest a hand on his forearm.

"Thanks," he said, staring searchingly into her eyes a moment. "If I do get approved, do you think you'd come with me for the first walk? I still feel a little… unprepared."

"You know there's really not a whole lot to it," she assured, but when he continued to look at her pleadingly, she sighed. "Fine. I'll come." She pointed at him. "But I'm not holding the leash  _or_ cleaning up any…  _deposits_.'

He grinned then. "Deposits? We're both adults here, I think you can just call it sh—"

She stretched her hand up and covered his mouth, glaring at him. "Shush."

His eyes twinkled down at her with mirth before he opened his lips and stuck his hand out.

Yanking her hand back, she asked incredulously, "Did you just  _lick_  me?"

He chuckled under his breath. "I'll tell you how it goes," he said, backing up as he turned to leave.

Nose wrinkled, she wiped her hand on the skirt of her dress. "Okay. Good luck." She waved at him before she turned back to her desk, touching a button on her headset to answer the call coming through.

He watched a moment longer as she brushed a loose tendril of hair behind her ear and rolled her eyes at whatever her caller said. She'd shared, numerous times, just how ridiculous some of the calls to the department were, many of them only needing a 'Have you tried turning it off and then back on again?' and her job was done. Much as she looked exasperated when she told him, it was clear that she loved working in IT, and he found himself wondering if he'd ever find something like that for himself. Finally, giving his head a shake, he turned and walked to the elevator. Much as he enjoyed the view, he had things to do, and he couldn't spend his whole day staring at Felicity, no matter how beautiful she was.

* * *

"Everything looks to be in order here, Mr. Queen… You have had a few run-ins with the police, but after speaking with you I feel confident that you're a good candidate for taking on the responsibility of one of our dogs."

The woman before him was rather stern looking, with flyaway silver hair, oblong glasses that sloped down her too long nose, and a pursed set to her lips that reminded him of his mother when she was annoyed with him. But there was kindness in her eyes, and he was pretty sure the crow's feet beside her eyes were from laughter more than age.

"Thank you." He nodded at her. "I know my record is… spotty, but I really think that this could be something good for me and I think I could do something good here with the dogs."

"Can I ask…?" She shook her head, clasping her hands atop the table, a number of gold and silver rings knocking together as she did. "What brought you here, specifically? Why not just buy a dog of your own?"

His brow furrowed and he tipped his head thoughtfully. "I've never had to take care of anyone else before… I've never really had to be responsible for someone else's happiness, and… I don't know, I think if I knew what that was like, I'd be more responsible for myself." He shook his head, scratching his temple awkwardly. "That sounds  _really_  self-involved. I just… I played with a dog for the first time not very long ago and I don't think I've ever felt happier than when throwing a ball made his entire day. Something so simple and so easy and it meant everything to him. And I just think that could be something for the both of us; I think I could make him happy at the same time I'm figuring myself out."

Nodding slowly, she picked up a file. "Okay." She pressed a stamp down on it and half-smiled at him. "What hours are going to work best for you, do you think?'

Grinning now, feeling excited, he said, "I jog in the mornings, before work. I could pick him up beforehand, we could go for a run in the park. And after work, I get off at five, I can be here and take him for another walk."

Humming, she scrawled it down on a pad of paper. "Okay. What I'm going to do is look through what we have right now and I'll see who I think will fit best with you. Once I have you paired, I'll give you a call and you can start as soon as possible. Leashes are available and so are baggies for picking up any droppings… Because you'll probably be coming in quite early, you're going to want to come in through the back. Just knock on the door and one of the volunteers will let you in. How does that sound to you?"

He nodded eagerly. "Great. That's… It's great." He held a hand out. "Thank you," he said sincerely, "for giving me a chance."

She shook his hand. "Just as long as we're clear… This is a big responsibility. Dogs get used to routines, so if you plan on only being around for a few weeks, rethink if this is what you really want. These dogs are waiting on families, but the wait can take a while. So just be sure this is what you really want to dedicate yourself to. If it is, then I think it'll be a good lesson for learning that responsibility you want. But if it's not, there's no shame in bowing out now. Just do it early, before I pair you."

"This is what I want," he said seriously. "I'm not going to flake."

Staring at him a long moment, she finally hummed. "Okay. I'll call you within the week with your pair."

A warmth filled his chest; previously, when faced with responsibility, it felt like a lead weight in his stomach. This was different. This, he liked. He offered his thanks one last time, said goodbye, and made his way out of the building, grinning like an idiot all the while.

On the drive back to QC, he was feeling good. Not so much about returning to his position at his father's back, but that he'd have a different kind of responsibility soon, one that he wanted. When he reached for his phone to call someone to share the good news, he found his thumb hovering over Felicity's picture. The interview went longer than he thought and she would be back from her lunch by now. It wasn't until the phone was already ringing that he realized he hadn't considered calling Laurel. He hadn't even told her he was signing up with the dog shelter.

But then Felicity answered…

"You got it! Oliver, that's awesome! See, I told you they'd like you!"

He chuckled. "You fist-pumped when I told you, didn't you?"

"Maybe... A tiny bit… Fine,  _yes_. Are you happy?"

He grinned. Yes, he was, actually.

He forgot all about Laurel then, and filled Felicity in on the details of what was asked and what he said.

It felt good. It felt great, really.

* * *

"A dog?" Laurel repeated, looking over at him curiously.

They were eating take-out in her living room, his feet up on the coffee table like she always told him not to and his back against the overstuffed cushions of her dark brown couch. She still had her books spread out, a subtle sign that he wouldn't be allowed to stay over, she was too busy for that tonight.

"Yeah. It won't be mine, not really. It's kind of like a… I don't know, I guess just a friend. I walk him, twice a day, and then I bring him back to the shelter."

"And you…" She shook her head, "signed up for this? Voluntarily?"

He frowned. "Yes…"

She reached for him apologetically. "Sorry, I'm not trying to sound like I'm surprised, it's just… Have you ever  _had_  a dog?"

He shook his head. "No. But I've walked one. I've played fetch before," he said rather defensively.

"Oliver, I think it's great that you're trying new things, I just… Are you sure you have time? I mean, you're going to be with your dad a lot. He works late nights, you'll probably be there for a lot of that."

"It's a couple hours a day. I'll take him out before work starts. He can come with me on my morning jog. And I already checked with dad; he said I can get out at five every day. It's up to me if I want to stay later."

Her eyes narrowed. "Have you ever thought that maybe he was testing you? He says it's up to you to choose if you want to stay, but maybe that's his way of testing to see how much you really want this…"

Sighing irritably, Oliver frowned. "I've already told the shelter that this is what I'm doing. If my dad wants me there, I'll be there. But I'm doing this."

She held a hand up in surrender and moved closer to him. "Okay, I'm not trying to upset you." She hugged his arm to her front and rested her chin on his shoulder. "I think it's great, I do, I just… You're  _finally_  looking at your future, and I don't want you to make the wrong choices or get distracted."

A muscle ticked in his jaw and he offered a strained smile. "I know. Thank you."

"Come on…" She reached for his chow mein and handed it to him. "Let's eat. I've only got an hour before I have to hit the books again."

He nodded, taking the food from her, but it was tasteless, and he didn't hear much more of what she said about her classes or the latest argument between her and her sister. He sat back on the couch and turned her words over in his head. He thought about the shelter and how proud he was when he walked out the door, thinking he finally had something he liked, something of his own. That felt tainted now and when it was time to go, he was happy to get out of her apartment, pressing a kiss to her cheek and walking out quickly.

He made his way home, all the while wondering what the right choice was, and if he'd ever really know.

* * *

The corporate world was boring.

Oliver felt like his life was moving by him in a slow, monotonous drawl that he couldn't get out of. He felt like his feet were stuck in glue and he was pushing himself forward only to find himself three steps back. His father was happy, his mother smiled at him proudly across the dinner table each night, and Laurel was always quick to tell him she was glad he was finally taking things seriously. But it all felt like a show, like he was only doing it to appease them, and it was exhausting.

"So quit," Tommy said simply, waving his empty glass at a passing waitress, who returned with a martini and her phone number, which Tommy pocketed, appreciatively watching her swaying hips as she left.

"I can't," Oliver answered morosely. "If I quit, he'll cut me off."

Inhaling sharply through his teeth, he shook his head. "Ouch, man, that's not cool."

"No." He rubbed his hands down his face. "I'm not cut out for this, Tommy. I mean, can you see me up there in that office? I can't run that place. I don't even know what we  _do_  there."

Tommy's eyes lit up. "You know what your problem is?"

He snorted. "My mother has a list. I'm pretty sure Laurel could give you a long-winded run down, too."

Ignoring him, Tommy clapped his shoulder. "You need to do what you  _know_!"

He snorted. "What's that, exactly? Party and screw up?"

"Well, one out of two isn't bad." He shook his head, grinning. "We need to open a club."

Oliver rolled his eyes, letting out a faint laugh.

"No,  _listen_ ," Tommy encouraged, "we've talked about it before, haven't we?"

"Yes, when we were drunk and being thrown out of clubs for completely legitimate reasons…"

"Right, but who knows the club scene better than us?"

"Now it's a joint effort, huh?" Oliver asked, smiling as he took a gulp of his whiskey.

"Are you kidding? If you're opening a club, I'll be right there with you.  _Hey_!" He pointed at himself. "You got a manager right here. You and me, buddy. We can put this together before Daddy Dearest even catches on. Think about it!"

Oliver stared at him a moment, a thoughtful expression crossing his face.

A club.

He could own and run a club of his own. Tommy wasn't wrong, they had enough experience between them, and Tommy had gone to, and stayed in, college to learn his fair share about business. While he wasn't interested in running Merlyn Global, he probably had a better head for the game than Oliver did. Maybe the business world wasn't a complete dead end for him, he just had to find his niche.

It would be his. His and Tommy's. A joint venture that their combined popularity in Starling City would garner enough attention to, easily. He could already see it. A warehouse turned club, bright lights, dark walls painted with the brand name. A colorful bar of only the best. He could come and go as he pleased, nobody to tell him what he was doing, right or wrong. Just him and Tommy, his best friend. What could be better than that?

He grinned as he knocked back the last of his whiskey and held up a hand for another.

As if he knew exactly what he was thinking, Tommy cheered him along, clapping his shoulder happily.

* * *

The best part of leaving work that day was that he was going to be meeting the dog he was paired with, and he was surprised to find he was nervous.

Felicity smiled over at him, looking amused. Her hands were tucked in the pockets of her bright red pea coat and she'd let her hair down. He liked it like that. She was always pretty, but there was something extra soft about her when her hair wasn't pulled up in a ponytail.

"It's going to be fine," she reassured as they made their way around the building to the back door.

"What if he doesn't like me?" he worried, frowning.

"You're right, that charming smile of yours might not work on a dog." Her eyes shot wide momentarily. "Not that I think your smile is charming, or that it works on me. Not that it  _isn't_ charming, because, well, it is. But I'm sure you've heard that before. In fact, I'm pretty sure it's what gets you into most of the trouble you've been in. That and too much alcohol. Oh my god, not that I'm suggesting you have a drinking problem." She waved her hands and pinched her lips together. "To reiterate my  _actual_ point, this dog is going to like you, and if it doesn't, you'll just have to show them you're  _worth_  liking."

Oliver stared at her, his lips curled up at the corners.

Glaring, she wagged a finger in his face. "Don't you dare laugh at me! Your nerves must be rubbing off…" She bit her lip. "Or maybe it's because the last time I was here was to pick up Rufus and they told me he'd been put down."

His humor fled immediately and he reached out, an arm wrapping around her shoulders. "I'm sorry. I didn't even think of that. If… If you don't want to be here, I mean… You don't have to be."

Tipping her head back, she looked up at him with a light smile. "I can't hide forever. Eventually, I know I'll be picking up a dog to walk myself. I just…" She looked up at the tall building and shook her head. "I'm not ready for that, yet."

He nodded, rubbing his hand up and down her arm. "Do you want to wait out here?"

She shook her head. "Not only is it creepy out here, and totally smells…" Her nose wrinkled up cutely. "But no way am I missing you meeting your first dog."

"Technically, I think Rufus was my first…"

She rolled her eyes. "Yes, but this one will be  _yours_."

"What's the difference?" he wondered, shrugging.

"You never forget your first dog. They just linger with you. Mine was a Staffordshire bull terrier. Alfie. He was  _adorable!_ " She grinned widely. "He was four and he got excited about everything. It was great." She shook her head. "I only had him for a few weeks. A family adopted him pretty quick. They were really nice though; they told me I could visit. I mean, I wanted to, but I didn't… I guess I thought if I saw him, I'd want to scoop him up and steal him back. So I just decided he'd be happy there with them and I took on another dog. Cheyenne. She was an older dog, a Rottweiler. Total sweetheart."

"How many have you been paired with?" he wondered.

"Well, I started when I was about sixteen, back in Coast City, and there were eight. Sometimes I walked more than one at a time. Then I moved away and didn't have time. But since I've moved here, I only really had Rufus. Nine altogether, I guess."

"And they were all adopted? Other than Rufus?"

She nodded. "Yeah. Sometimes they'd have me come in and meet with the families to tell them what kind of dog they were and if I thought they'd be good with kids."

"Did it ever suck? Having to convince other people to take them away?"

"Sure, at first." She nodded. "But after a while, you start to realize it's not really about how  _you_ feel. It's about what's best for the dog… I loved all of the dogs I walked, but I couldn't have adopted all of them, even if I wanted to."

He hummed thoughtfully and then took a deep breath and finally turned to the back door leading into the kennels. "Okay. Ready?"

"Are you?" she wondered.

He rubbed his hands together. "I think so."

She smiled and reached over to rap her knuckles against the door. A minute passed before someone came down to open it, pushing it wide for them to come in.

"Hey, Felicity, we haven't seen you here for a bit," the man greeted, a younger volunteer, leaning on the broom he was holding.

"Hey Kenny," she greeted happily before she motioned a thumb behind her. "This is my friend, Oliver. He's here to pick up his first dog. It should be on the schedule."

"Oh, sure." He held a hand out. "Nice to meet you, I'm Kenny, I volunteer here."

Oliver shook his hand quickly, but his attention was on the numerous kennels, searching for which dog might be his. He wasn't sure if he wanted a certain one in particular. There were so many dogs pressed up against the chain link fencing around them, snouts fitting through the holes as they sniffed the air curiously, trying to get a better look at them.

Felicity walked forward, making her way down the middle, passing her hands over a few kennels. "Hi Kita," she said to one, clicking her tongue. "And Roger, are you still here, honey?" She bent down in front of a caramel colored dog, wagging his tail happily as he walked close to lick her fingers.

"There you are," Kenny said, pointing on the list in front of him. "You've got Jasper. She's just down here." Kenny walked ahead, making his way down to a kennel nearly at the end. He pointed to a wall full of leashes and the shelf with the doggy bags just under it. "Grab what you need over there, sign your name on the dotted line, and you're good."

Oliver took the pen he offered and signed off his name before he bent down low to take a look at Jasper.

She was a rusty color with a white belly and black patches around her ears and snout.

"Alaskan husky," Felicity said, moving to stand beside him. "She's beautiful."

And she was; she had a pretty face, her ears turned up high as she stared at him curiously, her head cocked to one side. He stuck his fingers through a hole and waited. Slowly, she walked toward him, rubbing her wet nose against his fingers. And he grinned, nodding. "Hey," he said quietly.

While he took a moment to just watch her, she sat down, curling her tail around her legs, staring at him with the same interest, at least until a leash draped over his shoulder, and then she stood, her head perked up as she pawed at the floor excitedly.

Oliver looked up to see Felicity smiling down at him, holding the leash in one hand and bags in the other. "Ready?"

Standing, he undid the latch of the kennel and, taking the leash from his shoulder, latched it onto Jasper's collar. Happily, she tottered out, bouncing from him to Felicity.

Closing the gate behind him, he led her toward the door, waiting for Felicity to catch up before they stepped outside.

"To the park?" Oliver asked, looking back at Felicity.

She shrugged. "Wherever you want to take her, I'm game."

"It's the only dog-friendly place I know of. I don't know how she does with crowds and since work just let out, there's going to be a lot of people on the sidewalks."

"Okay," she agreed.

The park was still a few blocks over, but Jasper hardly noticed anyone else, stopping frequently to sniff just about everything she passed. Oliver, perhaps because he was new to it, didn't mind at all. Instead, he was amused by how eager she was to explore everything. While Jasper marked the wall of a building, Oliver turned to Felicity. "How was work?"

"It wasn't bad. The usual." She shook her head and reached over, knocking his elbow with hers. "What about you? Tell me about your day."

"I had meetings from 8 to 5." He frowned. "I don't think I remember anything we talked about. It was like something out of Charlie Brown. All I heard was a long, drawn out buzzing noise."

Her head tipped. "So, why did you start working with your dad in the first place? Because, no offense, but I don't really see you as the CEO type."

" _Should_ I take offense to that?" he wondered, his mouth twitching.

Felicity shrugged. "I guess that depends on if it's something you really do want. Which is doesn't sound like it is… Unless I'm reading you wrong and you actually love the idea of being the puppet-master of QC."

"Puppet-master?" he repeated with a chuckle.

"You know what I mean… Pulling all the strings of the underlings, making us dance for your amusement."

"Are you a good dancer?" he asked, smirking down at her.

She rolled her eyes. "Depends on the music."

"Yeah? You go to a lot of clubs? Maybe a few raves?" He bumped her shoulder. "Do you secretly have a glow stick collection?"

She laughed, biting her lip as she shook her head. "I've been to clubs. Contrary to what you might think, I do have a life outside of IT and dog walking."

"I can see it," he said, raising an eyebrow as he looked her over. "Felicity Smoak, lets her hair down, tosses the glasses, pulls on a skimpy dress and some dangerously high heels… You probably have men tripping over each other."

"You're not wrong about the shoes. I have a few stilettos that you don't ever want stepping on your toes."

He didn't have a hard time imagining it.  _Any_ of it. Felicity in a club setting, a clingy dress hugging all those curves, long legs on display, with strappy high heels that climbed her calves. Her hair flying wildly as her animated arms reached up above her head, reaching for the music notes dancing around her with just as much enthusiasm. Sweat dotting her skin, sliding down the slope of her back, her face flushed from how warm the room was, bodies moving all around, too close, pressed tight together. Except her, just a small berth around her, setting her apart. A wild temptress in the middle of general chaos, standing out like a beacon, a siren, compelling him closer.

Jasper yipped, drawing his attention, and he looked down at her to see she was impatiently waiting to move again, having finished her business with the wall.

"Sorry, girl," he said, moving forward, trying to focus on getting to the park and not the image still lingering in his brain. He chanced a glance over at Felicity, but she didn't seem to notice his distraction.

They stopped at a cross-light, and he watched her tug her hair out of her eyes as a breeze blew it around, and tucked it behind her ear, showing off the bar that crossed the top of her ear. She was a bit of a contradiction, seeming so much the good, hard working girl, but there was an edge to her that he thought might get overlooked more often than not. Maybe that was why it was so easy to imagine her in the clubs. She could lose the professional skirts and blouses and change into someone just looking for fun.

"We should go out sometime," he said, suddenly.

Her head turned abruptly and she looked up at him, startled.

"To the clubs. You, me, uh, my friend Tommy, maybe." He realized suddenly what it sounded like. He wasn't asking her out on a date… Was he? He had Laurel. And they were doing okay, they were just as they always were when they were 'on' instead of 'off.'

"Tommy?" she repeated, brow furrowed.

"Merlyn. He's my best friend. You'd like him." The words left an abnormally sour taste in his mouth. He felt like he'd gone from asking her out to setting her up with Tommy, which was not what he wanted to be doing.

She hummed noncommittally.

He was more relieved than he should be, he thought.

"So what are you doing at QC? You never did tell me what made you start shadowing your dad…"

Oliver shrugged. "Pressure, mostly. My dad gave me an ultimatum; either I start shadowing him or I get cut off."

"Oh?"

"Yeah…" His brow furrowed. "I don't know. I mean, I get why he did it. But…"

She shrugged, crossing her arms over her chest loosely. "You're used to one life and now it's changing. And it's not changing at your pace or maybe even not the way you want it to."

He nodded. "Exactly."

She looked up at him. "If you did have a choice, what would it be?"

He stared down at her. "I don't know… And I think that's the problem. I think… My dad thinks I should have it figured out already and because I don't, he thinks I'm wasting my life."

She hummed, her eyes dropping for a moment, and then she looked up at him curiously. "Are you?"

His mouth opened but no words left him. It seemed like such a simple question, but he wasn't sure he knew the answer. Whenever his dad told him he was wasn't doing anything with his life, he got defensive or he left, avoiding the fight entirely. He was good at that. Walking away so he didn't have to deal with things. It never solved anything, but he didn't always care about that. As long as it wasn't happening at that very moment, as long as he didn't have to deal with it right then, that was all he cared about. But now he had to deal with the aftermath of that; it was all or nothing and there was no changing his father's mind or running away, not really. Except, he kind of felt like he was still running away. He was going with the tide because it was the easiest thing to do. Not the  _right_ thing, not for him at least, but there was less conflict, less choice making.

"I never wanted to follow in my dad's footsteps," he said finally. "And I don't fit there."

"So what's worse? Being somewhere you don't fit or being lost?"

He frowned, staring ahead thoughtfully.

He didn't know.

"Maybe that's the real question…" She smiled up at him. "It's not 'what do I want to do with my life,' it's 'what do I  _not_ want to do?' If nothing else, you can start narrowing down the list."

He nodded, humming agreeably.

For the rest of their walk, through the park and to the field, that was all he thought about, with periodic interruptions of Felicity handing him a baggy to clean up after Jasper. But even that barely took any concentration. It wasn't the most pleasant thing in the world, but his mind was more distracted by the big question. He hated where he was, he hated being in QC and shadowing his dad, but would he hate being on his own? Would he hate having to figure it out without his parents and their money there to pick him up if he fell?

When he'd sat down for his interview about taking on the responsibility of a dog, he'd told the woman who interviewed him that he wanted to be responsible for someone else so he could learn to be responsible for himself. But was he, really? If he was still leaning on his parents, was he really learning responsibility at all?

No. He probably wasn't.

So what was he supposed to do?

Life was seeming a lot more complicated lately, and he didn't like that. In fact, a part of him was ready to start running, just like he always had, but then Felicity was tossing him a ball and Jasper was eager to play fetch, and he realized running wasn't an option right now. So he tossed the ball and he waited for Jasper to return it to him.

It was a start.

* * *

"You know, for someone who asked me out for drinks, you're spending a lot of time on your phone," Tommy complained, eyebrow raised. "Who is it? Laurel?" He rolled his eyes.

"Hm? No." He smiled as he thumbed back a response. "It's Felicity. She's spending the weekend at her parents… Her grandmother keeps calling her by her cousin's name and asking her where her husband is. After the third time, she made someone up…" He chuckled under his breath. "I'm telling her weird things her new husband does. He's currently a scuba diving instructor that wears his wetsuit everywhere he goes… Just in case there's some kind of diving emergency."

When he didn't get a response, he looked up to find Tommy staring at him, brow furrowed.

"What?" he asked.

"Felicity? As in… Fake girlfriend Felicity?"

Oliver's eyes darted to the left and he shifted in his seat. "Uh… yeah…"

Leaning forward, Tommy peered at him curiously. "And you two have been texting each other since…?"

He sighed. "We've been friends for a while. We kept running into each other and, I don't know, things just… progressed."

"To what,  _exactly?_ "

"To friendship," he bit out, feeling irritated. "Seriously, Tommy… I'm with Laurel."

"I know that, and you know that, but does, uh,  _Felicity_ know that?" he wondered, looking pointedly at his phone.

"It hasn't come up," Oliver muttered, putting his phone down on the table and grabbing up his drink. "It's nothing. We're friends. We text. I text you all the time."

"I don't have boobs. Although, if I did, they'd be perky."

Oliver rolled his eyes, a smile tugging at his lips.

Tommy reached over and scooped up Oliver's phone quickly.

" _Hey_!"

Thumbing through the contacts, Tommy found Felicity's and opened the info, clicking on the picture attached to her name. He whistled, brows hiked. "She's a knock-out. Very apple pie sweetheart."

"Tommy," he growled, making a grab for the phone.

"No, seriously…" He waved the phone at Oliver, her picture up, and his eyes moved to it.

He'd taken it of her on one of their lunch breaks. She had her hair down, falling in a wavy sheet around her shoulders, the elastic around her fingers since she was just about to tie it back again. The cool breeze had bit at her cheeks, giving them a faint flush, and, seeing he was about to take a picture, she stuck her tongue out the corner of her mouth, biting it as she grinned at him.

"You said she worked in IT, right?" He looked at the picture again. "She's cute for a geek."

Fed up, he finally snatched his phone back and snapped it shut.

"I'm guessing Laurel doesn't know about her either."

He frowned, reaching for his whiskey and knocking it back in one swig.

"Listen, I'm not here to judge." Tommy held his hands up in surrender. "I'm just saying… Be careful."

Oliver didn't respond right away, glaring at his now empty glass, but then his phone buzzed with a response and some of his irritation leached out of him.

He didn't have to be careful.

He had it under control.

Turning the phone over and flipping it open, he saw Felicity's face staring back at him with that sweet smile, her hair loose, the sun catching it, making it shine like spun gold. And for a moment, he forgot all about duty and responsibility and what was right or wrong; he typed out a response and closed the phone before he turned a grin on his best friend. "Let's have fun," he told him.

And Tommy, being Tommy, went with it, just like always.

* * *

Oliver blinked tiredly at the alarm blaring just out of reach. 5 am. He rolled over and pushed himself up out of bed, stumbling toward the bathroom for a shower. His mouth was dry, an aftertaste clinging to his tongue that made his stomach turn. He hopped into the shower and turned the hot water up high, letting it wake him up, bit by bit, gargling it in his mouth to get rid of last night's mini-party. It wasn't so long ago that he would've just buried his head under the pillows and gone back to bed, but he had Jasper waiting on him and he wasn't looking to disappoint her.

Hopping out of the shower, he tied a towel around his waist and walked to the sink, brushing his teeth and shaving. He finished toweling off and dressed in his sweat pants and old Harvard hoodie before he grabbed his sneakers and went downstairs.

Raisa was already up and handed him a travel mug of coffee. "I'll have something for you to eat when you get back," she told him. "Have a good run, Mister Oliver."

He smiled down at her, ducking to kiss her cheek. "You're too good to me, Raisa."

She waved a hand at him and walked off.

He chuckled to himself as he left. He drove his car into town and down to the shelter, parking in the back lot and knocking on the door to let them know he was there. One of the volunteers opened the door and let him in, leaving him to his usual routine.

He found Jasper already perked up, her tail wagging, like she knew he was coming. He grinned at the devotion on her pretty, rusty-colored face. He grabbed one of the leashes off the wall and attached it to her collar, leading her out. He took her through the back and around the building, walking her down to the cross walk. She was looking up at him eagerly, waiting for the best part to start.

He reached down to scrub behind her ears and, just as they reached a long stretch of sidewalk, he started jogging. She kept pace with him easily, smiling in that way dogs do. They made their way toward the park, crossing at lights and waving at a few cars that stopped for them to cross. Jasper ran happily beside him, her ears perked up and her tongue lolling. They passed a few other runners as they went, picking up pace and moving steadily around the bends and hills of the path. He didn't slow down until they reached the field, wet with dew and mostly empty. He dug out the ball he kept in the pocket of his hoodie and showed it to her. Sitting down abruptly, she waited as he undid her leash. She watched his hand with rapt attention before he let the ball fly.

"Go!" he told her and she took off running, kicking up dirt and grass in her haste. She scooped up the ball with her mouth and curved back around to return to him, spitting it out at his feet.

Oliver was content to spend the next half hour just throwing the ball for her, and when she finally came back and collapsed at his feet, panting happily, he nodded. "All right, we'll rest for a few minutes and then head back, huh?"

He took a seat on the grass, his knees up and his arms resting on them.

Jasper scooted closer and laid her head in his lap. He smiled down at her and pet down her head to her back, over and over. They spent a few minutes like that, the sky getting progressively brighter. When he was sure she could manage a jog back, he stood, dusting the grass off from his pants. She joined him, waiting patiently as he reattached the leash. It took a little longer to get back to the shelter since she wasn't as eager to run, but he didn't mind taking his time.

He brought Jasper back to her kennel and rubbed her ears, laughing when she licked his face and rubbed her wet nose against him. He kissed the top of her head and stood, closing the gate and hanging her leash up. "I'll be back tonight," he promised before he turned to leave.

She yipped after him, but, as much as he wanted to linger, a quick glance at his watch told him he was already running late.

Hopping in his car, he drove back to the house, a little over the speed limit, and wiped his feet on the mat, calling out, "Something smells good," to Raisa.

When he entered the kitchen, she had his breakfast waiting, and patted his cheek as he took a seat.

His mother was already at the table, reading a newspaper and sipping her orange juice, an English muffin with a slice of tomato on each side sitting in front of her. "How was your run?" she asked absently, turning a page in her paper.

"Good," he said, scooping up some scrambled eggs onto his fork. "Just went to the park, nothing special."

"That's nice, honey." Her nose screwed up then and she let out a tiny sneeze. And then another, and another.

Oliver shifted in his seat. He usually showered and changed before breakfast, but he was running late, which meant that he still smelled like Jasper.

Raisa walked into the dining room then and placed a jug of orange juice down near him.

"Raisa, will you take the flowers out, please. I think my allergies are acting up," Moira said, waving to a fresh bouquet of tulips in the center of the table.

"Of course, Mrs. Queen," she agreed, picking up the bouquet but raising a knowing brow at Oliver.

He ducked his head and filled his mouth with bacon, all the while pouring a glass of orange juice.

He ate faster than usual, eager to get away from his mother, who was still sneezing every few minutes. He hadn't told anyone but Felicity and Laurel about the dog. Actually, since Laurel had made her disagreement known, he hadn't mentioned it to her, and he was pretty sure she thought he'd agreed not to bog himself down with taking the dog out when he should be shadowing his father. He hadn't bothered to change her mind. Since she hadn't been as excited about it as he'd hoped, he decided not to tell anyone else either. His mother's allergies being one of the reasons, but he was pretty sure it was just an excuse. He wanted to keep Jasper to himself because he liked it that way. He liked having something that had nothing to do with anyone else. He didn't want to share and he didn't want them to tell him all the reasons it was a bad idea. Like he wasn't responsible enough or that he shouldn't tell the shelter he'd be there every day when he was bound to disappoint them or that he should really be putting his time into more important things, like QC.

When he was done breakfast, he hurried upstairs to get ready and, when he returned, he joined his dad in the town car to drive in to work, all the while thinking he'd much rather he doing anything else.

* * *

Oliver reached over and stabbed his fork into her salad, stealing a bite for himself.

Felicity frowned at him. "Hey!  _Thief_."

He grinned, chewing triumphantly.

Rolling her eyes, she said, "So what did you tell Tommy? He's asked you about the club thing a few times, hasn't he?"

He shrugged. "I said I'd think about it."

"And?"

He raised an eyebrow. "And what?"

"Have you?" she prompted.

He looked over at her, staring up at him curiously. "What would say if I asked you if it was a good idea?"

Her brow furrowed thoughtfully. "Well… You don't like working here."

He shook his head.

"And you don't want to go to school. You've tried that, what? Four times. And nothing fit."

He nodded.

"You're smart, you're stubborn, you've probably spent more time in clubs than the average person…"

He chuckled.

"But it's also a big thing to take on. It'll cost money, time, and, even if you think it might give you more freedom, there's a good chance it'll give you less. You'll be tied in as a co-owner of a business. Your name will be linked to it, publically,  _forever_. So if you fail, everybody will know it. It'll probably be broadcast on TMZ."

His lips pursed. "Thanks for the visual."

She smiled lightly and looked up at him. "I'm just being realistic."

"I know. But what do you think?" He looked at her searchingly. "Can I do this?  _Should_ I do this?"

She chewed her lip for a moment before nodding. "I think you should do what makes you happy."

His brow furrowed. "Even if it means being publically humiliated."

"Well, it wouldn't be the first time for you…" she joked.

He rolled his eyes. "I peed on  _one_ cop's car…"

She laughed. "You say that like it's a common thing."

"Well, it's not completely  _un_ common..."

Shaking her head in amusement, she leaned over, bumping his shoulder. "All I'm saying is that if this is something you want, you should do it… If you're not happy now, doing what you're doing, then you're probably not going to be happy weeks, months,  _years_ from now. So, change it, while you still have a chance." She looked up at him, smiling in that sweet way of hers that always made his stomach feel fuzzy. "I'm not guaranteeing it'll work, or that your dad will agree with it, but I'm a big follower of dreams, so…"

He nodded, and stole another bite of her salad.

"Oliver!" She slapped his hand away. "You have ridiculously expensive Thai food for lunch, stop stealing my grocery store salad."

"It's good," he complained, before holding out his Thai food. "Come on, I'll share if you share."

She rolled her eyes, but held her salad out for him to take.

As he ended up eating most of her salad all himself, he couldn't help but think that it felt good talking to her about things like this. Not because she always agreed, but because she told him both sides and then told him to do what worked for him, not what made others proud or what would turn out the best for everyone involved. And maybe that was the big thing; that he'd always chased a high and all he ever really found was split-second enjoyment and long-lasting disappointment.

He didn't think it was too much to want to be happy.

* * *

"A club," Laurel repeated, her brow furrowed. "Wait. I thought you were shadowing your dad." She waved her hands to cut off his reply. "No, Oliver, you said you were shadowing him and that, eventually, it would lead to you having your own office and making a real job out of it." Her brows hiked. "A  _real_ job, as in, not just partying with Tommy every night."

"I have been shadowing dad," he told her. "I just… I don't  _like_ it."

She sighed, exasperated. "Nobody likes it in the beginning, but you have to start somewhere."

"Laurel, I don't want to be CEO. I don't want to replace my dad or run Queen Consolidated. It's not who I am. It's not where I'm happy."

"And you think running some club with Tommy,  _that_ 's going to make you happy?"

He nodded. "I think it's a good start."

"Oliver, you have no experience with running a business. You have no background in marketing, you've never worked anywhere that would show you how to build up a business from the ground. You don't know anything about liquor except how to drink too much of it. And let's face it, if you and Tommy do this, you're going to spend more time in the crowd than you are running the business."

He set his jaw, a clawing feeling crawling up his back. "I know I haven't prepared for this, but Tommy had, and, together, we have a lot of experience dealing with clubs. He's been through college, he learned about business, about marketing, he can help me, teach me as we go. We know how to bring in a crowd. We know what people want out of a club. We have the money to put together something this city has never seen and we can do this." He raised his chin. "I  _want_ to do this."

"And where do I fit into these wants?" she wondered, tossing up her hands.

His brow furrowed. "What do you mean?"

"I mean you keep making these decisions and you're only telling me after-the-fact."

"Like what?"

She started ticking things off her fingers. "You dropped out of college and you didn't tell me until I figured it out myself. You signed up with the shelter to take that dog. You're making plans to start a club with Tommy."

"We already talked about college. I told you before, I don't fit there. I wasn't enjoying it."

"What  _do_ you enjoy?" she cried, frustrated tears filling her eyes. "Because I feel like everything is hit and miss with you. It's like the only time you're happy is when you're running away from any kind of responsibility."

"How is starting my own business running away?" he asked, his voice raising.

"You're only doing this because you don't want to work with your dad. And you're only working with him because he would've cut you off if you didn't." She glared at him. "But what would've happened if he hadn't threatened to, huh, Ollie? What would've happened to all those plans of getting a job or going back to school? You told me you were figuring things out, but I haven't seen you make one plan. Not until now, until you suddenly want to open this club. So what changed? Why is now any different than before? How do I know you aren't going to leave this whole club thing unfinished? Or worse, leave it all on Tommy while you go back to just drinking yourself into a coma!"

"What do you want me to say, Laurel?" he wondered, already exhausted with the whole conversation.

"I want you to do the right thing. I want you to grow up," she told him, shaking her head as tears fell.

His heart clenched hard in his chest as he stared at her disappointed face. Nodding, he turned and walked away.

"Ollie."

He kept going.

" _Ollie!_ "

He slammed the door on the way out.

* * *

He called Tommy up and they hit the clubs harder than he had in months. He drank until the world spun around him, blurring and tilting. And then it all went black.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I was pleasantly surprised by the interest in this story. To be honest, I don't really consider a story a success unless it reaches 50 reviews per chapter. I tend to question if I missed something or if people aren't as interested because it's an AU. Especially with this setting where we aren't seeing the heroics or getting the suspense that can come with regular Arrow stories. I've gotten some great feedback though, especially from those on Tumblr, who are oh so encouraging.
> 
> I've enjoyed writing this. Oliver has a different pressure put on him to figure himself out and he has these very different kinds of people in his life. He's got Laurel who's very focused and she wants Oliver to kind of fall in line with that. She's not demanding that he become the CEO, she just sees it as an avenue that he can take and she doesn't understand why he's so reticent. And then there's Tommy, who is clearly still in party-mode, he's happy without the responsibility, and the only reason he even really considers taking on the club is because Oliver needs to do something, and he sees it as something fun that they can do together. He's loyal, he's just not in the same buckle down headspace that Oliver is stuck in. And then there's Felicity, who's more neutral; she wants him to be happy, whatever that means, and she's got her life and her things going on. I like that. Because they're all so very different from each other and none of them are completely right or wrong, they're just different and Oliver is trying to figure out where he fits. To me, at least, as someone in college and starting another practicum, and questioning everything I'm doing, I find that relatable. So I hope you guys do too and you're enjoying it.
> 
> Please let me know what you think. Reviews are my lifeblood!
> 
> \- **Lee | Fina**


	3. Interlude (1/2)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Beautiful fic poster made by** : [dhfreak](http://dhfreak.tumblr.com/post/72956851210/we-keep-all-our-promises-be-us-against-the)  
>  **Kelsey Harris** : [Face Claim](http://oi42.tinypic.com/15ds4qs.jpg) (Kate Mara)  
>  **Jennifer Hodges** : [Face Claim](http://oi39.tinypic.com/15yyl34.jpg) (Michelle Monaghan)

****

**Interlude**. (1/2)

Felicity Smoak met her future husband seconds after having her nose buried in a sour yogurt cup. It was strawberry and that funky smell would linger for far too long.

Pretending to be his fake girlfriend was not how she thought that particular love story would begin.

To be honest, she never expected it to become a love story at all.

* * *

Felicity had lived in Starling City for seven months. After Robert Queen personally hired her into the IT Department, she found a cute, little one bedroom apartment that was, unfortunately, a bit closer to The Glades than she was completely comfortable with, but it was a brightly lit area and the rent was what she could afford. She was on the third floor, with an open concept kitchen, living room, and dining room. A fire escape sat outside her bedroom window while a wooden flower bed lay untended under the window of her living room, overlooking the busy street below.

She was twenty-two years old, fresh from MIT, having moved from Cambridge back home to Starling City for the summer before she took the job with QC. Her best friends, Kelsey Harris and Jennifer Hodges, helped her move in. Friends since third grade, they'd been by her side through just about everything, including that awkward period of life where it became clear she would not be having an ugly duckling to beautiful swan transformation any time soon. They had both moved to Starling shortly after graduation, and kept in contact through email and phone calls. It was an understatement to say that she had missed them and was excited to have them within reach again. Being back with them, even if it was in an unfamiliar place, felt like coming home. After emptying out the U-Haul and filling up her new apartment, she took the girls out for pizza and beer as a thank you, and thus began her new life.

The first month was the hardest. Getting used to a new city and adapting to her new job made her feel a little out of her depth. She wasn't used to the big city with its skyscrapers and intensely clogged traffic. Going to the animal shelter on 23rd gave her a chance to learn the city with a companion who wouldn't have to reschedule their life to fit her hours. She loved Kelsey, but she was currently working an internship for a fashion designer whose name Felicity couldn't even pronounce, and she was  _constantly_ on call, making it almost impossible for her to spend any time with her friends. Jennifer, too, was almost always busy. She had opened her own flower shop and was struggling to make ends meet most days, but she was happy, and Felicity tried to stop by on the weekends, around lunch, so they could catch up. In the meantime, however, she needed to learn the ins and outs of Starling, so she went a familiar route. Dog walking.

Starling City Dog Shelter was a welcoming place. It was a little run down and they had more dogs than they knew what to do with, but they were friendly and encouraging and they brought her into the fold like an old friend. The dog she was paired with wasn't the prettiest she'd ever walked, but she thought it was rather fitting. Rufus was an older dog, with scraggly fur, a bent tail, and lopsided ears. She wasn't sure how, exactly, but he always seemed to make the goofiest faces too. He was the kind of dog her dad would've said had 'personality,' and she agreed wholeheartedly. Rufus was genuinely happy, always eager to see her and go for a walk wherever she was willing to go. He didn't get impatient when she struggled to read the city map she'd picked up in an effort to learn her surroundings, merely sitting down at her feet and waiting for her to decide what they were going to do.

She felt a little like he was the one showing her the city. He'd been there longer than she had, or so she suspected, and he never seemed the least bit put off by all the smells and sounds around him. He simply walked jovially at her side, sniffing bushes and passing people, yapping at any other dogs that dared to walk on the same sidewalk as him. It was cute. And she considered him her first real friend in Starling City. She wasn't sure Jennifer or Kelsey counted, since they were Coast City natives just like her. So she and Rufus set off on a journey of learning her new surroundings together and she appreciated his positive loyalty all the way.

For the next six months, she found her routine. Monday through Friday, she was an employee of Queen Consolidated from 8am to 5pm. By 5:30 she was knocking on the back door of the shelter, gathering up Rufus to take him for a walk through the park. After she learned the general landscape of the city, she felt more confident in her abilities to navigate it and instead chose to bring Rufus to Starling Central Park, where a large field was almost definitely built specifically for dog owners. Rufus loved playing fetch. She was pretty sure he would do it night and day if he could. Walking him helped relieve the stress of each day, of answering calls and fixing basic IT problems over and over again. It also helped relieve the butt cramps that came with sitting down for extended periods of time, though she usually found telling people that got her a few odd looks.

It was his companionship, more than anything, that she loved. It could get lonely in a big city. She made a few friends in IT, but none as close as Jennifer and Kelsey. So after work, she would take Rufus out for their usual walk, returning by 6:30, when the volunteers generally closed up shop, and then, depending on the night, she would go home to relax. Take-out, a full DVR, and her couch were her closest companions. On weekends, she changed it up a little. She would drag Jennifer out for a night at the bar, even if it was just for karaoke, and every once in a while, Kelsey would show up out of the blue with tickets to the latest fashion show, demanding that they come along and share in the glamour.

Felicity was happy in her life. She dated around – Andrew the intern, Cam the bartender, Isaac the writer, to name a few – and she enjoyed herself. She didn't feel like anything was missing from her life. She had her family, her parents called frequently, her best friends, even if they were often busy, her job, which, despite the occasional bout of monotony, she loved, and Rufus, her faithful buddy.

When she met Oliver Queen, he was… unexpected. She would come to think that twice, her opinion changing as quickly as it had first formed.

That whole fake girlfriend situation had rubbed her the wrong way, and she made it clear why, even if he didn't understand. The first two times they met, she was almost completely convinced that there was nothing redeeming about his character. But then she had her nana in her head, admonishing her for being judgmental. Of course, her nana was one of the most judgemental people she'd ever met, only she carefully veiled those jabs in "concerned questions" that suggested Felicity would never be fulfilled without a husband and 14 children. Fine, 14 was a little high, but she swore the number climbed every time they talked… at least when her nana recognized her and didn't call her by someone else's name. Now that she thought about it, her nana's advice might be questionable, especially due to her obvious issue of becoming senile, but, then again, it was rooted in a lot of truth, so she decided to give the situation, and Oliver, some real thought.

* * *

"Wait, back up, are you telling me that for five minutes you were  _Oliver Queen_ 's girlfriend?" Kelsey asked, her dark brown eyes so wide, Felicity feared she might pull a muscle.

"I was  _temporarily_ his  _fake_ girlfriend," she corrected, stirring her drink with her straw. "And I wouldn't recommend it."

"I wonder if we could sell this to TMZ…" her friend pondered, twining a chunk of her auburn hair around her finger. "You think they'd buy it?" Her eyes lit up. "Ooh, maybe we could get that Heather chick in on it, right? I bet she'd  _love_  to get him back!"

Rolling her eyes, Felicity shook her head. "We are not selling the story to TMZ." When Kelsey took in a deep breath, she headed her off. "Or to anyone." She cut her hand in a 'final' gesture and her friend merely shrugged, popping the olive from her martini into her mouth.

"So what happened after?" Jennifer wondered, eyeing her curiously. "You sounded pretty worked up about it on the phone."

Jennifer's voice was gentle, her probing clearly out of concern. She was, in a way, the antitheses of Kelsey's excitable, no holds barred nature.

Even physically the differences were obvious. Where Kelsey's hair often changed colors, currently its natural red, Jennifer's was a muted brown, her eyes a warm, mossy green. Where Kelsey wore bold, chunky patterns, Jennifer preferred pastels, tending to blend in rather than stand out. And while Kelsey was a sun-worshiper, a healthy glow to her skin, Jenn had milky white skin, more likely to burn than tan. Personality wise, Kelsey was loud and attention-getting. She dated frequently and was always chasing the next good time. On the other side, Jennifer preferred long-term relationships, having been with her girlfriend for two years, and a boyfriend before that for three. But, despite being polar opposites, they tended to complement each other and had been thick as thieves as early as kindergarten.

"Yeah, you did. I had to pull in a few favors to get time off to be here," Kelsey told her. "You were  _that_ upset."

"I'm not  _upset_ , I'm…" Felicity let out a heavy sigh, " _frustrated_."

"Sexually?" Kelsey wiggled her eyebrows. "Because I can point out three guys in this bar alone who would  _gladly_ take care of that for you."

Felicity's lips twitched. "Thanks for the observation, but that's not the kind of frustrated I meant."

"Not that we could blame you if you were." Jennifer let out a faint whistle. "I've seen Queen in a few tabloids and he is… scrumptious."

"Scrumptious?" Kelsey snorted. "Try drop dead sexy. I would gladly toss my panties in that ring."

Felicity's nose wrinkled. "An image I never wanted, thank you…  _Anyway_ , I meant that I was frustrated that he had no idea why I would even be upset. Like he thought  _I_ was the weird one for not being, I don't know,  _flattered_ or something that he even gave me the time of day, let alone let me play his fake girlfriend." She waved her hands around. "Tell me I'm not wrong! Tell me it's not completely ridiculous that he came up to a stranger,  _forced_ them to be his fake girlfriend, and then had them stand in front of his one-night stand and be criticized like I wasn't  _good enough_." Her hand balled into a fist then, her bright blue nails digging into her palm.

"Which part is really bugging you?" Kelsey wondered. "That this Heather chick didn't think you were hot enough to be Queen's girlfriend, which, by the way, is totally false, or that he dragged you into this mess?"

"All of it," she cried, catching herself right before she slapped a hand down on the tabletop. "Look, I don't need someone else to tell me I'm attractive. But I also don't want to invite that kind of criticism into my life. I was just trying to get a snack on my break and I was basically forced into being a complete stranger's arm candy… And now I can't stop thinking about it. It is driving me nuts that he thinks it's totally okay for him to behave like that. To treat other  _people_  like that!"

"So say something to him."

Felicity frowned at Kelsey. "I have. It had no effect."

"Well, maybe you just have to let it go," Jennifer suggested. At Felicity's unsatisfied sigh and slumped shoulders, she reached across the table and patted her hand. "I know it sucks, but sometimes you just have to accept that not everybody is going to become enlightened. Some people are just jerks and we have no control over that."

"What we  _do_ have control over is alcohol consumption," Kelsey piped up. "And I vote that you get very drunk to make up for all that douchery."

Felicity cracked a smile. "Not your worst idea."

She smirked. "No, that would be sleeping with half the water polo team… Although I'm not sure if I regret that so much as I wish I was still that flexible. Because now I have to compare every sexual encounter to when I was sixteen and bendy…"

Jennifer choked on her drink as she laughed. "Half the water polo team? I distinctly remember it being more than half."

"Matt and Alex don't count." She shrugged.

"How do they not count?"

"Because I slept with them when they were on the basketball team."

"They were  _still_ on the water polo team…"

"Semantics." Kelsey waved her off.

"As enlightening as this all is, I think I need shots," Felicity told them decisively, drumming her hands on the table.

"Yes! Shots! That's an excellent idea!" Kelsey agreed before shooting her hand up in the air and waving at the attractive bartender. "We need a round of shots and your phone number for my cute friend here," she called, pointing at Felicity.

" _Kelsey_!" she exclaimed, her face flaming.

Her friend merely laughed, not the least bit put off.

And when the waitress dropped off their drinks, there was a napkin with a phone name, a smiley face, and the name Joey written on it. When she looked over, the bartender winked at her.

She would be lying if she said she went home alone that night.

She would also be lying if she said she didn't enjoy it.

Much as she didn't always love how carefree Kelsey could be, it did end up benefiting her from time to time, and this was definitely one of those.

Kelsey might not be as bendy as she was in high school, but Felicity was.

* * *

The third time she met Oliver Queen, she was in one of her favorite bookstores, picking up a few things to read. By a few, she meant four very thick books, because she didn't believe in 'light reading,' apparently. She never did ask why he was there, but she could admit to being surprised by the book he held, which was obviously written in Russian. She didn't take him for someone who put in the effort to become bilingual. Then again, she imagined women would probably drool over him talking in another language, even if they had no idea what he was saying. For all they knew, he could be comparing them to a horse's ass. Completely possible; her uncle, who had only learned those few words in Italian, often did that to pick women up at bars… Unfortunately, or fortunately in her opinion, he'd met a few too many women who were fluent in Italian, and he often sported a bruised cheek to show for his pathetic effort.

In any case, she decided that her silly grudge against Oliver needed to stop. She had to let go of what happened and just get on with her life. Both her nana and Jennifer were right; people were who they were and she couldn't change them or demand that they be decent. So she decided to just end it there, Oliver would live however he wanted to live, and she would put it all behind her. With a simple acceptance of his apology, she decided that would be it. She could forget all about him and put this whole thing in her past. When she walked away to pay for her books, she figured that chapter would be it. No more Oliver Queen.

She took her books home and put them on an end table. She wasn't sure why, but now they felt a little spoiled. They reminded her of him and every time she touched them, she replayed the conversation they'd shared.

_"Would you… Do you want to get a cup of coffee with me?" he wondered._

_She stared up at him. "I don't know. Apparently the last time we were in a coffee shop together, you fell madly in love with me."_

_He ducked his head as he laughed, scratching a finger at his temple. "Never know, could've been a prophecy of sorts._ "

Ridiculous.

As if somehow her life was meant to lead to him, of  _all_  people...

She scoffed, walking off into her kitchen to pour herself a mug of coffee. Sitting on her couch, she eyed the stack of books, chewing on the corner of her thumbnail.

He was handsome though.

And he had a nice laugh; it rumbled from his chest.

But he was a jerk. Even if his third attempt, this time far more civil, at talking to her went far better than the two previous tries.

Sighing, she scooped up one of her new books, determined to pretend like he had no effect on her at all.

She would never admit that, occasionally, the handsome protagonist in her book looked a little like the guy she met in that bookstore, a little unsure and far more genuine than she expected of him. And he had Oliver's laugh, but… that was just because he had a nice laugh. Nothing more, nothing less.

* * *

There was a donut shop that Rufus loved a few blocks over from the park. She was pretty sure it wasn't good for him to eat donuts, but she didn't think a couple here or there would be detrimental to his health, and he always looked so excited when they stopped there. The guy behind the counter was cute, so that helped too, and he always gave her a few extra donut holes. He never put down Rufus and his rather odd looks, not like Oliver had the day before. And fine, okay, so it was rather sweet, seeing Oliver play fetch with Rufus. He looked so proud of himself, grinning goofily whenever Rufus brought the ball back for him and he threw it again, harder and faster each time, like he was showing off. She wouldn't put it past him. But there was something oddly… sweet about that. How proud he was of playing fetch with a dog for the first time and being good at it. She was pretty sure she shouldn't find that, or him, attractive, but she did.

She was distracted when she took the extra baggy of donut holes from Anthony the donut guy. "See you tomorrow, Felicity," he called to her as she walked out, the bell jangling overhead.

"Great, see you then," she replied before hurrying out the door and scooping up Rufus' leash.

He knew what she had. He bounced at her feet, sitting back on his hind legs and lifting his front in an effort to sit pretty so she could give him his treat.

She smiled down at him, his head quirked to one side, lopsided ears flopping. "What happened to waiting, huh? You know you don't get one until we're at the park."

He yapped at her, toddling forward a few steps before he turning back around and looked at her hopefully.

Rolling her eyes, she dug out a donut hole and tossed it in the air for him to catch. He was small and he had to spit it back out on the ground and take smaller bites, but he always seemed to like catching it more than just having it put in front of him.

She waited as he chewed, bending down to scratch behind his ears affectionately.

Sometimes she wondered what his story was. The shelter had only told her that he moved around a lot and was friendly. There'd been no history of violence and he had a happy disposition. But she wondered if that meant that he had a bunch of families, all of which just passed him on to the next. Or maybe someone left him behind. Maybe he didn't fit into their plans so they moved to a new place and just left him in the old one. Or maybe he was forgotten. Maybe he had a family that loved him but they moved cross-country and he'd simply been lost in the haste to pack and move. She didn't think so though, because she couldn't imagine leaving behind someone with such a big heart, who just loved so openly and without reservation.

Felicity couldn't count on both hands how many times she'd considered adopting him. It was the downfall of spending so much time with dogs; of course she'd get attached. But she wasn't sure her life was stable enough yet. She didn't want him to be stuck at home all day while she was at QC. And what if there was a family out there that would give him more attention? It was an argument she had with herself often. But, she could admit, for just a moment the day before, with Oliver playing fetch with him while she sat in the grass, there was a nice sense of  _something_ that went along with it. It was weird, how things had changed so dramatically between her and Oliver. He had been this thorn in her side, this misogynistic, self-centered thorn that she never wanted to lay eyes on again, and then he had apologized at the bookstore, and he honestly sounded like he meant it. So when he came up to them in the park, she could admit that the irritation that stabbed her the previous few times she saw him had ebbed almost entirely. She didn't know what they were; acquaintances, maybe? But they weren't what they'd started as.  _He_ wasn't the first impression he'd given her.

He was easier to talk to than she expected, sharing details about herself and how she ended up in Starling City seemed more familiar than she ever thought she'd be with him. But his questions didn't feel invasive, they felt natural, like they were supposed to talk about those things, like they could share more than what that initial meeting suggested. In fact, after seeing him in that playful mode with Rufus, she thought there might just be more to him than anybody would ever expect.

But that was a dangerous road to go down, she decided. So instead, she went to the park with the only guy in her life that wouldn't disappoint.  _Rufus_.

* * *

Anthony asked her out two days later.

She was pretty sure he'd been working up to it for months now, but it was nice, how he stuttered out the question while she struggled to pick either sprinkles or glazed. She'd popped her head up, brows hiked, and smiled. "Sure. That'd be nice."

"Great! Uh, that—That's great. Maybe this weekend? Are you doing anything?"

She shrugged. "No, this weekend's fine."

"Saturday? We could get dinner, or a movie? Or both!"

Tucking her hair behind her ear, she nodded. "Reaching into her purse, she found a pen and wrote down her number. "Why don't you call me, and we'll figure out the details?"

"Yeah, uh, yeah, I will."

She handed him her number before leaving. She was a block away before she realized Rufus was looking up at her hopefully and she didn't have one donut for him. They went back and she laughed at herself awkwardly as she explained that she still needed donuts. She was pretty sure he blushed nearly as much as she did, but it was sweet, and she got a free sprinkle donut out of it.

* * *

"Did you sleep with him?"

"Kelsey!" she sputtered, putting her beer down on the coffee table. "We went on  _one_ date."

With a snort, Kelsey raised an eyebrow. "So? Share the dirty details. I'm having a dry-spell."

"Is this like that dry-spell you had a couple years ago that lasted three whole days and you acted like you'd been celibate for years?"

"In my defense, I was in a monogamous relationship and he was withholding sex for  _no_ reason."

Felicity frowned. "Didn't he have a stomach flu?"

"You know what? You're supposed to be on  _my_ side, and I'm really not feeling the love," Kelsey dismissed, admiring her fingernails.

"Fine. I'm sorry you went through a dry-spell then and you're going through one now." She crossed her legs under her, picking at a hole in the knee of her jeans absently. "How long has it been?"

She shrugged. "Oh, I broke it last night when I took home the drummer of the house band at this awesome club." She smirked. "Let's just say he's really good with his hands and, he might not sing, but he made  _me_  hit a few high notes with that tongue of his."

"Thanks for sharing," Felicity chuckled. "Sadly, I do not have the same to share in return. Anthony was a perfect gentleman and we had a completely sex-free date. We went out to dinner at Table Salt – don't even ask me how he got a reservation there, because I have  _no_ idea – and then we went to a movie… It was nice."

"Sounds boring," Kelsey muttered, settling back against the couch. "Well, what about tension? Was there a clichéd moment where you guys both reached for popcorn at the same time and your hands brushed and you spent like ten minutes trying to get your heart to stop racing? Or maybe you guys just made out in the back row?" Her eyes lit up. "Oh my god, do you remember junior high? With Jerry Fick?"

"Yes, I vividly remember you giving him a hand-job and getting caught by the theater staff. Also, just so you know,  _ew_. Now I can't sit in a movie and  _not_ think about what might be on the seats."

Unrepentant, Kelsey merely shrugged. "He was cute."

"Your taste is questionable."

"This from Oliver Queen's girlfriend," she teased.

Felicity pursed her lips. "I thought we agreed not to talk about that."

"No way, I'm never forgetting that. We will be old ladies with four husbands behind us and I'll still bring up the time you were a billionaire's girlfriend."

" _Fake_ girlfriend. And excuse you, I'm not going to have  _four_ husbands!"

"Fine, I'll have seven and you can have one."

"What's with eight? Why does there need to be eight?"

"I love 'love,' Felicity. Don't hate."

Laughter bubbled out of her and she found herself falling back against the cushions of her couch. "You're ridiculous."

"Yeah, but you love me…" She reached over and popped a dramatic kiss to Felicity's cheek before she winked. "You can be my one and only wife, if you want."

"What an honor," she joked, grinning.

"You bet your cute ass it is." She leaned back against the opposite arm of the couch and put her feet in Felicity's lap. "Speaking of your ex-fake-boyfriend, though, Jenn told me you ran into him again. Something about that fugly dog you walk? Randy? Rory? Something like that."

" _Rufus_ ," she corrected. "And… yeah, I guess. Oliver happened to be there and came over to talk." She shrugged. "I don't know. He's never walked a dog before, can you believe that? So, well, I made him. I mean, seriously, he's a billionaire. He could buy himself a dog if he really wanted one. Who  _doesn't_ want a dog in their life? And sure, he made fun of Rufus. He didn't use the word 'fugly,' but he was pretty clear he thought Rufus was probably the least attractive dog he'd ever seen. Not that dogs are ever really attractive, that'd be creepy. But you know what I mean." She waved a dismissive hand. "Anyway, so he walked Rufus through the park and it was, I don't know, kind of sweet. He wasn't sure he was holding the leash right or if there was some kind of technique to it that he was missing… But it got really good when we got to the field. Can you believe he's never played fetch before? Well, I guess since he's never been around a dog that makes sense, but, oh my god, Kelsey, you should have seen him! He was so proud. He kept throwing the ball and Rufus would come back for it and Oliver just looked so… happy, I guess. I mean, dogs always make me happy, Rufus especially, but it was like something clicked with him…" She smiled to herself softly and then shook her head, shrugging. "Anyway, I told him he should go by the shelter sometime, see if he can sign up to walk dogs too. It might be good for him."

Kelsey stared at her, her eyes a little wide. "Oh, wow…"

She frowned. "What?"

"You kind of like him." Kelsey grinned, grabbing up her beer. "Can't blame you. He's gorgeous."

"I—I do  _not_ like him. I mean, I don't hate him. I never really hated him. I disliked what he represented and what he did when we first met, but hate is a really strong word. And now, I don't know, it's nothing. We're… acquaintances. I just… I saw a different side of him and it was nice, that's all."

Shaking her head, Kelsey tucked an arm behind her head. "Uh-huh. You know, the last guy you were really into was that geek in MIT, what was his name?"

Sighing, she muttered, "Kyle. And don't call him names."

"Kyle was a grade-A jerk. Maybe you have a type."

She rolled her eyes. "He turned out to be pretty… jerky," she admitted. "But that was totally different. Kyle was a mistake. A really terrible mistake that I still blame on too much cold medicine. Oliver won't be a mistake because we will probably never see each other again. He just happened to be at the park when I was. I mean, he never comes by QC, so I'm sure it'll end there."

"Or maybe he'll get a dog too and you'll take walks through the park together and fall in love…" Kelsey let out a dramatic, wistful sigh, stacking her hands over her heart and batting her eyes at Felicity. "You'll ramble and he'll kiss you to make you stop and you'll be a crazy romantic comedy where the geeky IT girl gets the handsome billionaire who ends up having a heart of gold. And you'll have beautiful blonde haired babies with his devastating grin and your insane smarts and the world will weep for how perfect you are."

Digging the pillow out from behind her, she threw it at Kelsey. "Shut up."

Laughing, Kelsey hugged the pillow to her chest. "Fine. If you're done with your Harlequin romance, can we talk about my awesome week at work? Because someone's designs might be getting some positive feedback."

"Really?" Felicity asked excitedly. "Share!"

Eagerly, Kelsey sat up and filled her in on the details.

Felicity forgot all about Oliver and any implications about what she might think of him. In fact, she put men out of her head entirely and just focused on her best friend and how her job was on the verge of skyrocketing. The rest of the night was spent drinking beer, playing video games, and listening to Kelsey tell her all about every new outfit she'd put together, with very specific details that tended to go over Felicity's head but she filed away like a good friend should. And later, when they were a little drunk and their hand-eye coordination wasn't the best, she had Kelsey sloppily draw out some of her favorite designs and promised she would walk the catwalk if she ever got her own show.

The next morning, with Kelsey spooning her, Felicity hoped she forgot about that last detail. She'd probably trip right off the stage. In fact, she  _definitely_ would.

* * *

Two weeks and four dates with Anthony passed before she decided it was time to pull the plug on that burgeoning relationship. It wasn't that she didn't like Anthony. She did. He was nice and smart and totally handsome, but the spark just wasn't there. They parted on good terms though and she was happy that she wouldn't have to find a new donut shop on top of everything else. However, when she stopped by the shelter to pick up Rufus, she realized the donut shop was the last of her concerns.

"What do you mean he's not here?" she asked, her face falling. "Was he adopted? Because I was told that I'd be given a warning if people were looking into adopting him…"

"I'm so sorry, Felicity. I thought somebody had talked to you."

She was feeling worried now, her feet shifting side to side. "Talked to me about what?" she demanded, looking from the volunteer that had let her in to Barbra, who ran the front desk.

Taking a deep breath, Barbra reached for her hand and squeezed. "Rufus was put down this morning. He was with us a long time, and the policy is that if a dog isn't adopted after eighteen months, then we can't keep him here any longer. We have too many dogs coming in not to."

"But he was  _small._ He didn't take up any room. And he—He was a really good dog. He…" Her throat caught, a cry stuck there as her eyes built up with tears.

"I'm so sorry. We try to warn the walkers ahead of time. I know how easy it is to get attached…" Barbra patted her hand.

Felicity pulled her hand free and backed up, wrapping her arms around herself. "I have to go." She turned and hurried out the front door, only to realize she had to circle the building to get back to her car. The tears started falling halfway there, dribbling down her cheeks and filling her eyes so quickly she could hardly see. She struggled to get her key in the lock and pull her door open before she was slumped over her wheel, sobbing. The injustice of it all settled hard in her gut and she buried her face in her hands. His face was so clear in her head, those beautiful, loving eyes staring up at her, his tongue lolling out of his mouth.

It took her a long time before she was able to wipe the tears away and get her car moving. She drove to Jennifer's flower shop and barely closed her car door before she burst through the back, searching for her friend.

Jennifer was looking over a list as she went through her stock and didn't see her right away, but when a muffled cry escaped Felicity, Jennifer startled and turned to see where it was coming from.

Spotting her, tears flowing freely once more, Jennifer immediately put down her papers and hurried toward her. "Smoaky, oh my god, what's wrong?" She gathered her in a hug and squeezed her tight.

Her words were muffled in Jennifer's shoulder, but she managed to explain in a stilted fashion that Rufus had been put down.

"Oh no…" Jenn rubbed her back in circles, rocking her side to side. "I'm so sorry, sweetie. I know how much he meant to you."

"It's not fair," she cried, hiccupping. "He was such a good dog."

"I know… I know…" Jennifer didn't let her go, holding onto her as she cried.

It would be a while before she felt like she could pull herself back together. Her glasses were fogged and her nose was runny, loose tears still spilling down her cheeks. "Sorry," she breathed emotionally. "I just burst in, you could've been really busy."

Jennifer waved it off. "Don't worry about it."

She took Felicity's hand and led her into her office, grabbing a few tissues from the box of Kleenex on her desk and offering them to her while she plucked Felicity's glasses right off her nose and cleaned them off with her smock for her. Not for the first time, Felicity found herself smiling over how motherly Jenn could be. When she finished cleaning her glasses, Jennifer brushed Felicity's hair back off her wet cheeks and tucked it behind her ears before she put her glasses back on her and readjusted them so they were straight.

"You want to talk about it?" Jennifer wondered.

She considered it for a moment before finally shaking her head. "No. I… It's too fresh."

"That's okay." She sat beside her and hugged an arm around her shoulders. "We can just sit here for a while."

Half-smiling, Felicity tucked her head on her best friend's shoulder. "Thanks," she whispered.

Jennifer didn't say anything, she just rubbed Felicity's back and held her.

A few times, memories of Rufus made tears burn in her eyes, but she just sunk into the comfort of her friend and let it carry her.

* * *

She didn't expect him.

In fact, he was the last person she thought she'd end up sharing Rufus with. Eventually, when her heart didn't hurt the second Rufus' goofy face filled her mind, she thought she'd tell Jennifer about him, about how hurt she was that he was gone. But then Oliver was there, sitting beside her in the park, in the same spot she'd been when they'd played fetch just a short couple weeks ago. She'd been surprised when he showed up. A little too deep into her depression, she'd taken the day off, still feeling out of sorts about what had happened. Going to the park had been an effort to connect with him. Unlike the people she'd lost in her life, Rufus didn't have a grave for her to lay flowers at or lament over his life ending before it should have. All she had was the well-worn paths they'd walked time and time again, and the park that he always looked his happiest in.

She brought his leash with her. It was probably telling that she'd bought him his own instead of using the one the shelter offered. The guilt ate at her. It surprised her when she told Oliver that she wished she'd adopted Rufus, that she regretted not doing that, not knowing that it could lead to this, and it was tearing her up inside. But what surprised her more was that he held her. It wasn't quite like it was with Jennifer, and not just because she'd been hugged and comforted by her best friend more times than she could count. It was a mixture of two things; Oliver didn't seem very confident in his ability to comfort her, as if he didn't do it often, and he didn't feel the same as Jennifer did. Obviously, being a guy, he wasn't as soft as her girlfriend, and he didn't smell softly of the fragrant flowers Jenn handled day in and day out. Oliver was firm; all hard plains and stability, and he smelled like expensive cologne, but not an abundance of it, just a hint that lingered. For a moment, she considered burying herself closer to that comfort and just breathing him in, and then she realized what she was doing, and how bad that idea was. He was being a friend, he was trying to make her feel better, and whatever it was she was feeling did not belong in that moment.

He was good about the embarrassing amount of tears and, probably, snot she'd left behind on him after her crying spell and she appreciated his good humor approach. Finding out he signed up to walk dogs was oddly encouraging to her. While she was sad she lost Rufus, she couldn't say she didn't still think the shelter and dog walking wasn't a great cause to get behind. Plus, he looked proud of himself when he told her that he had signed up. Almost as proud as he had that day he'd played fetch with Rufus. It made her heart light, and she wondered how many times in his life he'd genuinely felt proud of himself.

It didn't escape her that when he suggested coffee and talking about Rufus, they were both things she'd turned down previously, the coffee with him and discussing her lost companion with Jenn, but something fit this time that hadn't before.

"His favorite food was donut holes," she told him as they sat in a café just around the corner from the park.

His lips quirked. "Do dogs usually eat those?"

"Just between me and you… yes."

He chuckled under his breath.

She smiled. "Admittedly, I probably shouldn't have been feeding them to him, but he just looked so excited, and I'm a pushover, so I found this place a block over. It was nice. We had a routine. We'd walk down and I'd get a donut and a donut hole for him. Anthony always gave me a few extra, I think he took pity on him. And then we'd walk over to the park where we'd burn off all that delicious deep fried goodness…" She shrugged, rubbing her hands up and down the cup of coffee in front of her. "Now I'm always going to associate donuts with dogs. That's terrible."

"Because you can't eat donuts anymore or because they'll always make you sad?"

She looked up at him, her eyes a little wide. " _Both_."

He stifled a smile and ducked his head. "Maybe after a while the donuts won't make you sad anymore… I mean, I've never lost anyone before, not really. My grandfather died when I was pretty young and my dad says I was really upset about it. I don't remember him though. Just… Just that he liked cigars and tweed… and he always kind of smelled like mothballs."

"I think that a prerequisite of grandparents."

"Mothballs?"

She nodded. "Just funky smells in general."

He hummed. "Anyway… Maybe after a while, it won't hurt like it used to. I mean, you'll probably always miss him, and you can't really forget a face like that, but…"

She rolled her eyes, but nodded. "He was handsome in his own way."

Oliver raised a disagreeable eyebrow and she slapped his shoulder. "He  _was!_ "

"We have very different definitions of handsome."

"Yeah, well, not everyone can be GQ handsome, Mr. Billionaire."

His mouth curled up at the corners and she felt a flush fill her cheeks.

"Not that you are. Oh, or aren't!" She waved a hand. "Ugh. You know what I meant, shut up."

He chuckled lowly under his breath. "I get it."

"Foot in mouth disease is real, and it has plagued me my whole life," she groaned, dropping her chin to rest on top of her coffee cup.

"I like it," he admitted. "Makes you genuine."

"Well, I'm glad my constant struggle not to embarrass myself makes me trustworthy."

He grinned, shrugging. "I didn't make it happen, I just benefit."

She rolled her eyes at him, but she was feeling better than she had since the bombshell had dropped yesterday. There was something about Oliver that made things better, and she wasn't sure what it was or what to call it.

"Thank you," she murmured.

He raised an eyebrow curiously.

"Just for being here today…" She shrugged. "It hit me really hard. I just, I wasn't expecting it. It felt like it came out of nowhere and I didn't know how to deal with it." She blinked back tears and smiled, reaching up to swipe them away before they could tip over the edges. "The thing about dogs is that you love them and they love you unconditionally… And he was my partner, he was my friend while I was learning Starling City, and now it just feels… I don't know, kind of empty, I guess."

He nodded, reaching across the table to take one of her hands, squeezing it gently in his. "For what it's worth, I'll miss the little guy too… I didn't know him as well as you do, but… I feel kind of lucky that I got to meet him at all."

She smiled winsomely. "You were."

He laughed, ducking his head a little as he grinned.

Later, she would decide that was the moment she decided she 'liked' Oliver. Not romantically, not as an acquaintance, but just who he was. He might not have been used to comforting people and there was still a lot they didn't know about each other, but when the chips fell, he was there, and he picked her up in a moment where things just felt so wrong and out of her control. So at the heart of him, he was a good person, and she liked that.

She wasn't sure they'd ever really be friends or what the odds were they'd even see each other again, but she would remember this time, at least, fondly.

* * *

The next time she saw Oliver was literally the very next day.

"So, guess who works here now?" he said in greeting.

Felicity jumped in her seat before turning to face him. Her brow raised curiously. "I have no idea. Was it that guy they brought in last week who smelled like cottage cheese?"

He blinked at her. "No… Actually, I have no idea. Although I hope not." He waved a dismissive hand. "Anyway,  _I_ work here now."

"Here as in  _here_?" She pointed both her forefingers at the floor. "Because, no offense, but I spent four years in MIT to get a position here, and yesterday you spent thirty minutes struggling with auto correct on your phone…"

He rolled his eyes. "Okay, in my defense that was a new phone. But no, not in IT. I'll be shadowing my dad upstairs."

"Ahh…" Her brows hiked as she leaned back in her chair. "So soon I might be calling  _you_ the big boss."

He smirked. "You can call me that now if you want."

She snorted. "You've literally been working less than an hour and you're already primed for a sexual harassment suit."

"This is like déjà vu," he muttered, tipping his head to one side as he stared down at her, amused.

"Ha, ha." She sat forward. "First, no, I'm never calling you that, ever. Second, if today's your first day of work, shouldn't you be upstairs impressing everybody?"

"One, that's disappointing. And two, I'm going to, in a minute, but I thought I'd see if you wanted to have lunch together." He shrugged. "You're the only one I know around here."

"Be still my heart," she said wryly. "I can do lunch, but mine's at 12:30, so I don't know if it fits with your schedule."

He nodded. "So, down here at 12:30. Do you guys have, like, a cafeteria or something?"

"Probably, somewhere. But I brown bag it. So I hope you brought something with you. I usually eat outside, gives me a chance to walk around a bit too."

He grinned slowly. "Butt cramps?"

She glared at him, but it carried no heat, her lips twitching. "Don't knock it. You'll probably be sitting in on meetings all day so you will have first-hand experience soon enough."

He held his hands up in surrender. "Not judging, just commenting."

"Uh-huh." She pointed toward the elevator. "Go. Impress people. Enjoy your first day."

He winked at her. "Yes, ma'am."

As he turned to walk away, she chuckled under her breath.

Maybe she'd be seeing more of him than she ever expected.

* * *

"Every lunch?"

Felicity shrugged. "It's only been a week, Kels."

"Yeah, but every day for a whole week. His  _first_ week, so he probably should've been eating with the other execs, or his  _dad_ at least, but instead he goes out of his way to eat with a lowly IT geek…"

She snorted. "Thank you. That was extremely flattering."

Rolling her eyes, she waved her fork at her, losing a chunk of charbroiled steak in the process. "You know what I mean."

Picking up her wine glass, she nodded. "I do, and I get what you're trying to say, but it's totally harmless, trust me."

"This is the same guy who showed up at a park looking for you after he found out the dog you walked got put down, then took you out for coffee so you could talk about said dog and try to get closure. I mean, I'm not a relationship therapist, although I'd be an awesome one if I was, but that sounds a lot like this guy is going out of his way to spend time with you."

"So? Friends do that." She waved her hand around. "Hence why we're currently out to dinner. Which, by the way, took a long time to schedule, so maybe we should curb the boy talk and you can tell me more about those designs you pushed to the right people and who are now looking to put them in a show…" she said leadingly.

Kelsey dismissed the offer with a wave of her hand. "After we're done talking about billionaire boy-candy."

Sighing, she shook her head, taking up her fork and knife to cut off a piece of her deep-fried halibut. "Fine. Yes, Oliver comes down and spends his lunches with me. And yes, it would probably make more sense for him to be upstairs schmoozing, but, to be honest…" Her nose wrinkled. "I don't think he likes it up there."

"Really?" Kelsey's brow arched. "Aren't trust fund babies raised on the ideology that one day they'll rule the roost?"

"Can't say from personal experience, but if they are, this one slipped through the chicken wire…" She frowned. "I don't know. He's just always really eager to get away from it all and he doesn't like talking about it. And not in an 'I don't want to share it with you because it's top secret business stuff,' but in an 'I hate every second of it, please distract me from the monotony' kind of way."

"I see you've spent some time thinking about it," she mused, grinning.

Felicity filled her mouth so she didn't have to answer, but she glared at the implication in her friend's words.

"Look, all I'm saying is this guy is handsome and he's apparently putting in the effort to spend some real time getting to know you." She shrugged. "Maybe he isn't the total d-bag we thought he was."

Felicity nodded. "I'll agree with the second part. He's not a complete jerk like I first thought. He's… funny and charming and smarter than I think even he knows." Her brow furrowed. "I mean, he plays it off a lot. I think he's a little embarrassed by how many schools he dropped out of. But academia's not for everyone, right? He's much better with social situations. He's people smart, I guess." She smiled. "And you should hear him talk about his sister. He just melts. It's obvious how much he loves her. And it's mutual. Apparently she'd just attached at his hip; she thinks he hung the stars."

"I don't think she's the only one…"

Felicity huffed. "Men and women can be friends."

"Oh, I know they can, but not when thinking about him and his sister makes you smile like that." Kelsey shook her head. "You're getting attached, Smoaks."

"I'm not." She shook her head. "He's a nice guy, and I like having lunch with him, that's it." She cut her hand through the air in a final motion. "Now, subject change. Tell me more about the designs they want to use for the show."

Kelsey pursed her lips, considering for a moment if she was going to let the topic be changed, and then a smirk curved her mouth up on one side and she sat forward, spilling the details.

Felicity knew she wouldn't let the subject drop completely. Kelsey was like a dog after a bone when she got onto something, but Felicity was content to linger in denial a while longer. She wasn't sure what was going on with Oliver. There were times when he smiled at her and her stomach fluttered. Sometimes just hearing his voice or seeing the clock get closer to lunch time made her pulse jump. But it was a bad idea. A  _really_ bad idea. Not only because of his reputation, although that was a pretty good warning all its own, but also because they'd built a nice friendship and she wasn't sure she wanted to disturb it. If it was even disturbable. For all she knew, Kelsey was reading the signs wrong and giving her false hope.

Seriously, what would Oliver Queen, playboy billionaire, want with an IT geek? She thought back to Heather who, despite not being someone Oliver wanted to be with long-term, was still drop dead gorgeous. Felicity wouldn't shake her fist at her own looks, she thought she was, at the very least, pretty, but she wasn't a leggy super model type, and that seemed to be exactly who Oliver tended to gravitate to. With a shake of her head, she decided it was a pointless stream of thought to follow. She and Oliver were friends, nothing more. With that, she focused back on Kelsey and put everything Oliver related out of her mind.

* * *

Her resolve not to linger on thoughts of Oliver lasted less than a day. She found herself watching the time inch closer to 12:30, eager for her lunch break to start so they could make their way downstairs and spend some time just talking. Oliver liked to tell stories, most of them about his childhood or his sister. Sometimes he told her about the colleges he'd been to or trouble he and his friend Tommy had gotten into, but she found most of his stories revolved around high school or carefree times with Thea. She wondered sometimes if it was because that was a time before responsibility, before he'd had to take on the position of shadowing his dad, or if maybe it was because he wasn't as proud of the times he had his name splashed in the headlines as the public might think.

Oliver didn't boast about peeing on a cop car or assaulting paparazzi. He didn't try to make things seem more glamorous than they were. Instead, he highlighted the things that mattered to him, and they were few and far between. She was sure he loved his parents, but they weren't mentioned as often as Raisa, one of his house staff, was. Felicity was sure he had a number of girlfriends too, but he never mentioned anyone he might be dating. The two names that came up the most in conversation were Thea and Tommy. While he could have name-dropped, he never tried to, instead he just mentioned 'people' being involved, as if everyone else were just extras in a world where he and Tommy were chasing excitement down the wrong roads.

It was noon when he dropped by her cubicle to tell her that he wouldn't be making it to lunch because he had an interview at the shelter. She struggled for a moment between disappointment that they wouldn't get that lunch respite and excitement for him that he had the interview lined up. In the end, she went with excitement, but after she left, she found herself evaluating just why she was feeling down that she was losing one hour together. Prior to Oliver spending his lunch with her, she didn't mind spending some time on her own, just taking in the quiet. Sometimes she ate with the others but, more often than not, she tried to take her lunch by herself, wanting to come down from the influx of phone calls needing help. She liked the peace. But she didn't mind it being interrupted by him, because it didn't really feel like an interruption.

While she sat outside, picking at her sandwich, she found herself missing him. She knew it was ridiculous. She would see him tomorrow and it was only one hour out of her day. But she liked talking to him, and how intently he listened when she told him how her day was going. She knew it could be difficult for her friends to follow along sometimes. She loved Jenn and Kelsey, but they weren't the most technologically advanced, so she could always tell when their eyes were glazing over at her discussing her day, but Oliver's didn't. Sure, they probably would in time, but he always seemed genuinely interested in her sharing her day, and she liked that.

She finished her lunch early and went back to work, the lingering disappointment something she told herself was not a sign of anything. But then, as she was in between calls, her cellphone started buzzing in her bag, and she saw his name staring back at her. Smiling, she flipped it open.

Careful not to attract attention, she hunched over in her cubicle and said quietly, "Hey, how'd it go?"

"You're talking to the shelter's new dog walker," he answered happily.

Grinning, she fist-pumped. "You got it! Oliver, that's awesome! See, I told you they'd like you!"

He chuckled. "You fist-pumped when I told you, didn't you?"

She rolled her eyes. Was she really that obvious? "Maybe... A tiny bit… Fine, yes. Are you happy?"

"I am. She said she'd call me in a few days, when she knew who she'd be pairing me with."

She nodded to herself. "So what kind of questions did she ask and what'd you say?" She bit her lip to stop her smile. "Tell me everything."

Yes, it was company time, and yes, she'd probably be reprimanded for it, but, technically, she came back from her lunch break early, so was it really that terrible that she took some time out to listen to him tell her about the interview? She decided not and absorbed every detail happily. If Kelsey's voice popped in her head from time to time to warn her that she was getting too deep, she ignored it. What even  _was_ too deep, really?


	4. Interlude (2/2)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Felicity, Kelsey, and Jennifer's outfits at the fashion show** : [Polyvore](http://www.polyvore.com/interlude/set?id=110362811)

****

**Interlude.** (2/2)

Felicity was pretty sure Kelsey's favorite part about fashion shows wasn't actually going to them so much as getting to dress her friends up.

"I really should be working," Jennifer complained, sitting in front of Kelsey in little more than her underwear, on a cushioned dining room chair, hair tied back and out of the way. "Business is picking up; I shouldn't have closed early."

"It's  _one_ day," Kelsey dismissed, digging in her make-up bag. "And besides, I thought Marissa offered to keep it open for you."

"She did." Jenn frowned, her nose wrinkling. "I love Marissa, I do, but she knows nothing about flowers, and I just know something will go wrong and then I'll feel like I should be there fixing it. It just made more sense to lock up than deal with the 'what ifs.'"

"How has she been dating you this long and still not know anything about flowers?" Kelsey scoffed. " _I_ know more about flowers than a person should  _ever_  need to."

"We try not to bring our work home." She shrugged. "I don't know anything about law except not to break it, but she's working her butt off in law school, so…"

"So you two are just going to grow old not talking about work? Ever?" Kelsey arched an unconvinced eyebrow. "You literally  _own_ a flower shop. Shouldn't that be kind of a defining part of who you are?"

"I'm a business owner, not the business itself." She rolled her eyes. "And what would you know? Your last relationship lasted fifteen minutes in a supply closet."

"It was ten minutes in a bathroom stall and I was having a dry-spell, don't judge me!"

Felicity grinned from her seat on the couch, her hair in curlers and a Wired magazine in her lap, going mostly unread as she listened to them argue.

"You're  _always_ going through a dry-spell, and that's my point. Relationships are more difficult than quickies. Marissa gets stressed out over school, so she doesn't like to talk about it. I get stressed out about the shop, so I don't talk about flowers with her. It's like a trigger at this point." She groaned. "Anyway, we talk about other things. Books, people we met, funny things that happened."

"The sex must be amazing," Kelsey muttered with a snort.

Jennifer rolled her eyes. "It is."

Pulling up a chair, Kelsey started working on Jennifer's make-up, her concentration zeroing in on the task. But after a few minutes, she came back to the subject at hand. "What do you think, Smoaks? Can a relationship survive if they never talk about the big stuff?"

"Work isn't the only big thing in our lives," Jennifer argued, but Kelsey was quick to hush her, casting a curious look over her shoulder.

Distracted by an article in her magazine, Felicity replied, "Hm? Uh, I don't know… Jenna and Marissa get along better than most people I know."

"Sure, but they might be the anomaly. What about you? Do you talk about work in your relationships?"

"I love my work. I'll talk about it with anyone…" She cast her eyes off to the side. "It's nice though, when you have someone who really listens to that stuff. I mean, I know I can go off on really long tangents and I don't blame people for getting bored when they have no idea what I'm talking about, but it's nice when they make an effort. Even Oliver, who I'm pretty sure doesn't know anything about computers, he always listens when I talk." She smiled slowly. "At lunch today, I ranted for fifteen minutes about this complete jerk I had to deal with on the third floor, and he listened to every word… Well, he also offered to have him fired or physically thrown out of the building, but we agreed that was a bit much. Anyway, it was just nice to vent to someone and actually be heard, you know?"

When she didn't get a reply right away, she looked up to find her two friends staring at her, Kelsey smirking while Jenn's eyebrows were hiked in surprise.

"What…?"

"We asked you about relationships and your head jumped to Oliver," Jennifer said, her brow slowly furrowed. "Since when are you guys so close?"

"Since he started working at QC and spending every lunch break with our brainy beauty," Kelsey said, looking satisfied.

Sighing, Felicity shook her head. "You're reading into it. I was just using him as an example."

"Yes, an example of what you want out of a man in a relationship. Someone who listens and encourages you and offers to Donald Trump people if they offend your  _delicate_  sensibilities…" Kelsey's voice took on a slightly mocking tone.

"I don't even know if he  _can_ fire anybody, he was just offering to make me laugh."

"Great sense of humor," Jennifer said, eyes narrowed and a playful smile tugging at her lips.

"Stop," Felicity ordered, feeling a flush crawl up her neck. "We're friends."

"Mm-hmm…" Kelsey whirled back around to face Jennifer and continued with her make-up. "Anyway, I may not be an expert on relationships, but I do know that you should probably be sharing the burden, right? Instead of just keeping it to yourself."

Jennifer sighed. "I don't know… Maybe. I just, I get so worked up about the shop, and I don't want that to start leaking into my relationship." She looked from her back to Felicity. "I love her, she's the least stressful part of my life besides you guys… Maybe when the shop isn't such a huge issue with me, I'll be happy to share it with her."

Humming disagreeably, Kelsey shrugged. "Your choice, J. But it's gotta suck bottling all that stress up. I mean, one day, you're gonna blow. You can't take on that much stress and not."

"Thank you, Dr. Phil, but I'll deal with it when it happens."

"Sure, but we have a witness, so I get to say 'I told you so.'"

"Those  _are_ the rules…" Felicity added.

"Fine. You can sing it for all I care," Jennifer muttered.

"Or not," Felicity piped up. "No singing would be good."

"Hey! I have a great singing voice!"

Jennifer and Felicity exchanged a dubious look.

"Cut it out, I do!" Kelsey claimed. When they still didn't agree, she glared at them. "You guys suck."

Jennifer grinned. "Not as much or as often as you do."

Helpless to it, Kelsey laughed, grinning widely. "True."

Back on task, they put the issue of relationships behind them and focused on getting ready. Kelsey had personally picked out dresses for each of them and when their make-up and hair was finished, she had them change before she got her camera. It was a long-time tradition that any time they got dressed up and went out together, they had to take before-and-after pictures. Felicity's before-picture consisted of her hair piled up on her head, her favorite MIT hoodie, and a ratty pair of jeans. But the after picture had her in a black mini-dress with gold and silver sequins that created a belt at her waist, a crossing wave pattern over her chest, and lined the top of her sweetheart neckline. She was feeling pretty glamorous, with ringlets falling down her back and heart-shaped gold and black earrings her nana had given her on her thirteenth birthday.

They set out for the fashion show in a cab, the tickets tucked in Kelsey's clutch and their names added to a VIP list. When they arrived, Felicity wasn't surprised to see cameras set up and various familiar faces, if only from magazines, lined a red carpet leading inside. Kelsey led them past the hub-bub even though Felicity knew she loved the spotlight. Much as Kelsey loved to linger and talk about who she was wearing, in this case, her own designs, her friends didn't. Jennifer was never as eager to have attention on her, even if she looked drop-dead gorgeous in her blue and black bodycon dress, with floral, lace and sequin patterns and long sleeves. She was a knockout even if she never saw herself as one. But, in true fashion, it was Kelsey who stole the show; her black sequin dress had a V that dipped down to below her navel and completely exposed her back. She wasn't the least bit concerned about modesty, and it showed.

The fashion show itself was what Felicity expected, a lot of flashing cameras, beautiful models, and the type of clothing that would neither fit her body shape nor really appealed to her. But Kelsey watched with stars in her eyes as each person came out, and Felicity really enjoyed the champagne being passed around liberally in tall flutes. Admittedly, more often than not, Felicity found herself on her phone, texting Jennifer since she was on the other side of Kelsey and just as uninterested in most of the show as she was. The glitz and glamour were more Kelsey's style, but they did like coming out with her, if only because it gave them time to spend in each other's company.

When the show finished, the after-party began, and that was where Felicity usually had her fun. She got to meet a variety of people and see Kelsey in her natural habitat, charming everyone she met and getting her name out there as she talked design. Jennifer had wandered off when she saw a buffet table, generally ignored by the public but never by a hungry Jennifer. Felicity was just about to join her when she heard a voice to her left, "Are you a model?"

Her head whipped to the side, only to drop down a few inches before she saw the girl, all arms, legs, and thick brown hair. "What? Oh, hah, no. That's flattering though."

"Oh." The girl's mouth twisted up as she looked her up and down. "So who are you wearing?"

Looking down at herself, she said, "Kelsey Harris, I think. She usually dresses us in her designs, anyway." She shrugged. "Exposure."

"Never heard of her," the girl said simply.

Felicity turned and pointed toward her friend, where she was entertaining a group of people, her head back as she laughed. "She's the red-head."

The girl followed her finger and nodded. "Cool. So, she's a designer?"

"Yes, she is. She's interning right now, but she'll be a name you know in a few years, I'm sure." She smiled proudly at her friend's back before looking back to the girl. "Not to pry, but aren't you a little young to be here?"

"I come to these all the time. I'm going to be a model when I grow up." Her eyes lit up then. "Hey, maybe I'll wear your friend's clothes."

Smiling, she nodded. "Maybe you will."

"Cool." Her eyes darted away and she said, "There's my mom, I gotta go. If she sees me, she'll tell me it's past my bedtime, and I'm having too much fun to go." She grinned mischievously then. "See ya later!" With that, she hurried off, ducking and weaving around people.

A blonde woman appeared then, looking so put together that Felicity felt uncomfortable in her own skin. "Excuse me, have you seen my daughter? About this tall, extremely defiant and very talkative."

Felicity stifled her amusement. "She was here, but I'm not sure where exactly she ran off to."

The woman let out a heavy sigh, but offered a faint smile. "Thank you. Enjoy your evening."

"You too."

After she'd walked away, a familiar voice piped up, "Saying hi to the future mother-in-law?"

Felicity turned her head to see Kelsey at her side, one hand on her hip while the other held a nearly empty flute of champagne.

"What?" she asked, her brow furrowed.

"That was Moira Queen," she said, in a 'duh' fashion.

Felicity paused, her eyes slowly widening. "It was?"

"Yeah. You didn't know?" She frowned. "Weren't you talking to the munchkin? That's Thea Queen. She comes to these shows all the time."

"We didn't really exchange names…"

Kelsey shrugged. "So? How's it feel to meet the family?"

Rolling her eyes, she elbowed Kelsey. "Shut up."

Chuckling, Kelsey wrapped an arm around Felicity's waist. "Come on, I want to show my awesome dress off and you're wearing it."

"Fine… But I've had a lot of champagne, so who knows what I'll say."

Snorting, she raised an eyebrow at her. "Like you need champagne to put your foot in your mouth."

" _Exactly_."

For the most part, however, Felicity managed not to make a complete fool of herself. Jennifer wandered over to join them and Kelsey was happy to maneuver them how she liked to show off her dresses to whomever was willing to listen and, considering how easy it was to become completely enamored with Kelsey on the whole, she had a lot of them interested. Which meant Felicity was dizzy by the end of the night after being twisted and turned for far too long. Still, when she went home that night, she was happy. A night out with her girls was always warranted.

* * *

While Rufus still held a special place in her heart, Felicity couldn't help but have a soft spot for Jasper. She was a beautiful dog, but it was probably more how Oliver lit up when he met her that did it for her. He was so careful when he walked her for the first time, and more patient than she ever would have given him credit for. He didn't mind how often she stopped to sniff things or how she peed on just about every building they passed, he just looked excited to have been paired.

As they walked through the park, she was somewhat amused to talk to him about whether or not she'd been clubbing. Felicity loved dancing, and get a few drinks in her and she could spend the whole night sandwiched between Kelsey and Jennifer on a dance floor. She imagined, however, her nights weren't that similar to Oliver's. When she thought about him going to the club, she imagined him in the middle of a huge group of women, all vying for his attention. Felicity was happy for her anonymity; she and her best friends could dance freely. Sure, there were always a few men who tried to take one or all of their attention away, but for the most part, it was all about relieving stress and having fun with each other. Of course, she couldn't count how many times Kelsey snuck off with a guy for a quickie before returning to their side, knocking back a shot, and getting back into the groove. She was a free spirit who never apologized for herself and Felicity rather envied her that.

She imagined, too, that she would fit in nicely with Oliver. Or, at least the Oliver that was used to being in the public eye and drinking himself blind. She could see him and Kelsey being bosom buddies, partying to all hours together and only regretting it when they woke up the next morning to feel their heart beat banging in their skulls. Compared to Kelsey, Felicity was probably boring. She had work and dog walking and, depending on the night, her girls, but other than that, she was content to read or relax at home. Maybe she fell somewhere in the middle; not quite a party girl but not a homebody either. Jennifer ranged closer to the homebody. While she could always be convinced to come out, it was never her idea to hit the club scene or the bar. She preferred a bottle of wine at home with her cat, Bo Jangles, Marissa, and a good TV show to going out. An ideal night for Kelsey, on the other hand, was a line of shots, as many hot men as she could handle, good music, and very little clothing. Of course, Kelsey was an extreme. But then, Oliver could be too.

"We should go out sometime," he said suddenly.

Her head turned to look up at him, her eyes a little wide. She would be lying if her brain didn't immediately go down the route of dinner and wine and dancing. She could imagine Oliver across from her in a place like Table Salt, an expensive bottle of red on the table. He would be lighthearted, teasing her about one of her many verbal gaffes, and they would talk about work, her more than him, since he never liked talking about QC, and after they would go out dancing. His hands would never leave her; they'd linger on her hips and his fingers would find and tangle with hers, and he'd kiss a path up her neck. She could see that. For the first time, she admitted to wanting that.

"To the clubs. You, me, uh, my friend Tommy, maybe."

And then reality crashed back down on her abruptly.

"Tommy?" she repeated, because, like an idiot, it dawned on her that he was not asking her out on a date, or at least not a one-on-one date. More like, what, a  _group_ date? Or maybe this friend Tommy of his was someone he thought she might like. Because, obviously, he didn't think of her that way. She was Felicity, from IT, the girl who shot him down and frequently put her foot in her mouth. He dated supermodels and socialites. He probably only saw her as a friend, which is what she had been telling herself she thought of him until two minutes ago when her imagination got away from her and created a fantasy that would  _never_ come true. She blamed her friends for constantly suggesting things were more than what they seemed. God, why couldn't she just stick with friendship? Why did she have to become interested in him at all? It was probably his stupidly handsome face and that smile and the way he listened and how he laughed and she could still remember how he smelled when he hugged her after Rufus died. And wow, this was not helping. Backspace, backspace, delete cache. She needed to get her head on straight.

"Merlyn. He's my best friend. You'll like him."

So it  _was_  him setting her up... Okay, talk about reading the situation wrong. Humming faintly, she cast her eyes away. Somehow she thought going on any kind of outing with a guy who was best friend's with Oliver, when she'd only just realized she kind of wanted to go on a date  _with_ Oliver, was probably a really terrible idea.

She changed the subject after that, focusing back on why Oliver was working at QC. It was a good distraction both because she finally learned what brought him to a place he obviously didn't want to be and gave her a chance to stop thinking about that weird ball of lead in her belly that was built completely of disappointment. Pushing away that feeling, she focused on him and what he was saying. Just as she thought, he wasn't happy at QC, but the pressures of amounting to something were pushing him into it. So when he told her that his dad thought he was wasting his life, it made sense to ask him if  _he_  thought he was. Because really, in the end, what did it matter what others thought?

When she got into MIT, she remembered her cousin telling her that she'd probably get bored so fast. And there were others too, who thought working with computers must be so tedious, but Felicity never let that bother her. She loved computers. She loved pushing her limits and creating code and hacking. She didn't find it boring at all. She loved it. So why not pursue something she loved? Why not do exactly what she wanted with her life? Screw anyone who thought different. This was her life and she wasn't going to waste it following the status quo. So she went to MIT and she graduated summa cum laude. And it was the best damn thing she ever did.

"I never wanted to follow in my father's footsteps," he told her. "I don't fit there."

"So what's worse? Being somewhere you don't fit or being lost?"

He frowned, staring a head of himself, deep in thought.

"Maybe that's the real question…" She smiled up at him. "It's not 'what do I want to do with my life?' it's 'what do I  _not_ want to do?' If nothing else, you can start narrowing down the list."

He nodded slowly, humming.

The rest of their walk was spent with him mostly deep in thought, but she didn't mind. It was nice actually, peaceful even. Déjà vu hit her when they ventured closer to the dog park. They had another dog between them now, but there was that same sense of domesticity to it. The difference now, of course, being that her feelings had since developed, and in a way she hadn't expected. But he'd made it clear that his feelings were platonic. He wouldn't have suggested she meet Tommy otherwise, right? And that was fine, she told herself. Totally and completely fine. They were friends.

She could do friends.

* * *

Felicity loved her family, but they were crazy.

Why she agreed to spend a whole weekend with them, she had no idea. Her mom did have a way of guilting her into things, though, so that was probably it. It was like a mini-family reunion at her parents' home. Cousins, aunts, uncles, and her nana were all there, crowding the too small house. Food was being made and handed around non-stop, and the talking was so loud that her ears were desperate for relief.

She started out texting Kelsey, but she was at work and if there was one thing that could keep Kelsey off her phone it was designing clothes. So she started texting Jennifer, but she was busy with the shop, which had been picking up business lately, so Felicity didn't want to interrupt. It took her a few minutes before she finally decided to text Oliver, not because she didn't want to, but because things had been a little awkward, at least on her part, since the 'group date' had been suggested. But, as things tended to be with him, it was natural to text him about the weirdness that was her family.

 _-Two cousins and an aunt walk into the living room and the only words I hear are 'Of course the size of their feet matter. You never marry a man with small feet. I learned that with my first husband.'_ -

Oliver replied quicker than she thought he would. – _She's not wrong I knew a guy in prep school who had tiny feet… Not a keeper_ -

She chuckled to herself. - _Maybe he had a great personality._ -

- _He had a shitty personality and a tiny dick take your aunts advice_ -

Felicity choked on air. - _OMG. And first of all, she wasn't giving ME that advice. Second of all, I can't say I generally check a man's shoe size before we go on a date_.- She shook her head and added a second text. – _And for all you know, that was an anomaly. The feet aren't an exact science in that department_.-

- _I go to the gym regularly. Ive seen a lot of dicks in my life trust me its more accurate than you think_ -

She bit her lip. - _Should I be concerned about how often you compare these things in the locker room?_ -

- _I'm naturally competitive…_ ' A moment later, a second message popped up. – _And I always come out the victor ;)-_

Felicity muffled a laugh. – _This conversation has taken a weird turn_.-

- _Has it? Because I think it started on dick size and hasnt wandered far in fact its wandered closer to home_ -

She rolled her eyes. - _Well I didn't start this conversation with your… junk in mind_.-

- _Thats disappointing im a little hurt_ -

She snorted. – _subject change: have I mentioned that my nana keeps calling me by my cousin's name? Which is Velma, by the way_ -

- _Like in scooby doo? not gonna lie that's kind of awesome_ -

 _-Yes, like in Scooby Doo. I think I should be offended though. Not just because Velma and I look nothing alike, but because I was way closer to her growing up than Velma was. I'm feeling a little unloved_.-

- _If it makes you feel better I totally dont like velma she obviously suck_ s-

Felicity bit her lip to muffle a laugh. –I appreciate your loyalty-

- _Ur welcome_ -

She stared at the message for a while before putting her phone away when her aunt came calling for her to help make latkes in the kitchen. Both during and after they prepared them, she took pictures and sent them off to Oliver. With a plate of the finished result in front of her, she snapped a picture and sent it with the tag line: - _You should be jealous right now_.-

He replied with, - _I am-_

Unrepentantly, most of her night was spent texting him back and forth, from the weird bits of conversation she picked up to the mind-boggling boredom she went through off and on. But it was her nana who really amused her. – _Seriously, she keeps asking me where my husband is… I don't even think Velma is married_.-

- _Tell her hes on a super secret spy mission in prague_ -

She snorted. – _Yeah, she's really going to believe that._ -

- _Vacuum salesman?-_

- _I want to be less bored, not more bored. My nana could talk about vacuums until I'm old and grey_.-

- _Got it. Hes a scuba diving instructor!_ -

Her lips twitched. – _Go on_ …-

- _He works for the government doing extremely important diving jobs. He never takes his suit off because you know just in case._

She laughed, her head falling back against the arm chair she was sitting in, her legs hugged to her chest and her phone balanced against her thighs. – _Never?-_

- _Nope not even in bed. Drives you nuts. You haven't touched your husbands skin in three years. :'(_ -

- _OMG! That's terrible!_ -

- _It is. You might ask for a divorce soon_ -

She buried her mouth against her hand and shook her head when her mom looked at her curiously.

"Felicity, you've been on your phone all day. Come talk to everybody. They've missed you. Uncle Jerry wants to hear about what you're doing in IT."

She highly doubted that, but her mom was right. She was ignoring the majority of her family in favor of her conversation with Oliver.

With a sigh, she texted back, ' _Gotta go. The family wants me back. I hope they aren't disappointed I'll be divorcing my scuba diving husband soon..._ -

- _Have fun. Condolences on the impending divorce_.-

Even after she hung up with him and sat down with her family, a lighthearted feeling in her chest lingered. And later, when she went to sleep in her old bedroom, she re-read through their whole conversation, drifting off with a smile etched across her lips.

* * *

Was Dale a terrible name?

She wasn't sure.

Dale wasn't a terrible date though… So far.

He did, however, have very small feet, and that was almost all she could think about after he asked her out for dinner. He worked IT, but they were on opposite ends of the floor, so she rarely saw him. He, apparently, had noticed her though, and asked her out on Tuesday for a drink or something. A drink turned into dinner and an effort to stop thinking about Oliver. She was mostly failing on that last part, but she was used to that by now. He was almost obnoxiously easy to think about.

So, here they were, at a nice restaurant, eating pasta that she was terrified of dropping on the pale, rose colored blouse she'd borrowed from Kelsey, who she was pretty sure 'borrowed' it from work. She could just imagine some gorgeous model pulling it on later and complaining that there was a weird stain. So yes, she was somewhere between wondering if Dale was a terrible name, if his feet were abnormally small, and if she was going to drop her dinner on herself. Oh, and she was trying really hard not to compare her date to Oliver, who she'd had lunch with earlier that day and who frequently stole bites of her salad.

"…and then Terrance Drummond on the sixteenth floor called me with a problem with his email. Get this, I told him to refresh and it  _worked_." Dale laughed incredulously. "Some of these people, right? I swear, rich people just never think they have to do anything. He wanted me to go all the way up to his floor so I could hit refresh." Snorting, he rolled his eyes and picked up his glass of wine.

Felicity played with the stud in her ear. "Some of them are like that, but I think it's probably because a lot of them are older, so they didn't grow up with a lot of this tech."

"We're in a tech age. I mean, people like you and me could be running this company a lot better than the Queens. And now they're bringing that son of his in, too. I mean, what an ass, right? The whole company is going to go to hell if he gets his hands on it. We're all going to be out of work." He shook his head, leaning forward as if he were about to share a state secret. "The second I heard they brought that idiot in, I started putting out feelers. Got my eyes set on a cushy job over at Stellmoor."

Felicity's eyes narrowed, her spine straightening angrily. She smoothed out the napkin in her lap, taking a few seconds in an effort to find her cool, before she told him, "For your information, Robert Queen is a great boss, who hired me  _personally_. He's been nothing but gracious since I met him. Secondly, Oliver has been shadowing him in an effort to learn the business. Neither of them think he's ready to take on that kind of responsibility. But if he ever  _does_  take on the job of CEO, I believe he'd be a good one. He might not have our tech expertise, but he's a good person, and a smart man. Just because you read a few tabloids doesn't mean you know him." Standing from the table, she tossed down her napkin. "Also, Dale is a terrible name, and you have very small feet."

With that, Felicity turned on her heel and swept out of the restaurant, bristling with righteous indignation.

Despite getting a late dinner, the night still felt pretty young. Felicity couldn't help but think it was a waste that she'd spent so much time getting ready when her date ended on such a sour note, and turned out to be such a dillweed. Taking a cab home, she went upstairs to her apartment and traded in her cute dress and high heels for a loose muscle shirt, Mickey Mouse pajama pants, and fuzzy purple socks. She turned on her DVR and settled in with a bowl of buttery popcorn.

It was probably pathetic that she fell asleep at 10:30 on a Friday night, but after spending an hour trying to distract herself with TV and only getting more and more worked up about what a jerk Dale had been, she decided it wasn't the worst thing. She would get up early, maybe talk Jennifer into going out for brunch so she could lament about how much the dating pool sucked. At least if she went with Jenn, the odds of her bringing up Oliver were slim, whereas Kelsey would be quick to remind her she had a handsome man waiting in the wings. Which she  _didn't,_  and really didn't want to be reminded of the fact.

* * *

It was 2am when her phone woke her from a dead sleep. The ringtone was a joke –  _Don't You Want Me_  by Human League – Oliver had picked it out himself and sometimes called her just so he could laugh. It was less funny now that she had an answer to the prevailing question of the song.

She was drooling on her arm, her glasses were crooked and her make-up smudged since she hadn't bothered to wash her face or put her hair up, only managing to trade out her contacts before she turned into her natural form, the couch potato. Sleepily, she searched around, eventually finding her phone stuck in the cushions of the couch. She pulled it up and blinked blearily down at the screen, seeing Oliver's grinning face staring back at her.

Brow furrowed at the time blinking back at her, she flipped it open. "Hello?" she mumbled.

"I fucked up. I fucked up so bad, 'licity."

She blinked a few times, rubbing at her forehead. "Sorry, what? Oliver, where are you?"

"I don't know. I don't know where I am, you know? Or where I'm going. Or where I am."

"Yeah, you just said that… Are you drunk?"

"S'what I do when I'm mad, you know? When I feel like a fuck up, I just get drunk. Makes it all go away, right? But it doesn't," he gritted out emotionally. "'Cause I'm gonna wake up t'morrow and still be the fuck up they all think I am."

"Oliver, I need to know where you are so I can come get you."

"I'm at a club. A loud one. With lots of lights and  _assholes_ for bouncers…" he yelled distantly, as if he'd pulled the phone away to direct it at someone in particular.

"Okay, I'm going to need more details." She pushed off the couch, a little more awake now, and grabbed a jacket and her car keys before she made her way out of her apartment. "Can you look around for me? Can you tell me if you see a sign anywhere?"

He didn't answer right away, but after a few minutes, which she took to go downstairs in the elevator, he finally replied, "There's a McDonald's across the street."

She sighed. "Okay, well, that narrows it down a little… At least you didn't say Starbucks, then we'd really be hooped."

"'m so tired…"

"I'm sure you are. So was I, since I was sleeping and everything. But I need you to stay awake until I get there, okay?" She hurried down the sidewalk to where her car was parked and climbed in, rubbing at her eyes as she turned the ignition and let it warm up a bit. "More details, Oliver. Maybe you can ask one of those bouncers where they work."

"No, they're assholes," he muttered petulantly.

"Assholes who probably want you to leave as much as you do. So just ask them where you are."

He sighed, long and loud, but there was some rustling and a hand passing over the phone as he muffled it. Finally, he told her, "Viper. I'm at Viper Club."

"Okay, see? I know where that is." She pulled out onto the road and added, "Also, that's not a McDonald's, but you're really drunk, so I'm sure you don't care."

"I'm a failure, Felicity," he moaned morosely.

"No, you're not, you're just a little lost."

"I'm a drunk f-failure… Ugh… I don't feel very good."

"About the drunk part or the failure part?" she wondered, frowning.

The retching sound that followed cleared that up and, after a few minutes passed, he finally came back on the phone, sniffling. "My shoes…" he whined.

She rolled her eyes to herself and bit her lip. "We'll clean them."

"Everybody cleans up my messes," he told her thickly. "My dad, my mom, Laurel… And you know why? It's not 'cause I let them, even if I do, it's 'cause they don't think I can do anything myself… Because I screw  _everything_ up. School, my life, every job I ever had, school again and again and again… I can't do anything right and they know that… They know how dumb I am. They know I'm not gonna do… any—anything with my life." He laughed, high pitched and thick with emotion. "'Cause I'm not. I'm gonna fuck this up just like everything else. My dad's expecting it, so is my mom… She looks so… so  _proud_ , y'know? But she knows it won't last. She knows I'll screw it up."

"Oliver… I'm going to be there soon, okay?"

He hiccupped, his breath becoming shaky. "Do you think I'm a loser? That I'm pathetic?"

"No," she told him firmly. "No, I don't think that at all."

"You should," he whispered thickly. "You should think that…"

He didn't talk after that and while she wanted to reply, she wasn't sure he'd hear her, because she was pretty sure he was crying. He was going to be so embarrassed tomorrow… He must have put the phone down too, because he stopped responding to her questions, even though she could clearly hear that the phone was still connected.

By the time she drove up to Viper Club, it wasn't hard to find him. He didn't look like the guy she knew; his shirt was untucked and his hair was wild, like he'd been running his hands through it over and over again. He was in the middle of yelling at a bouncer when she put her car in park and hopped out.

"Oliver!" she called, hurrying to the sidewalk and toward him.

The bouncer looked unmoved, thick arms crossed over his chest, barely batting an eye at the angry, drunk man screaming in his face.

Sighing, she jogged over and slipped a hand around Oliver's bicep, tugging him back. "I am so, so sorry," she told the bouncer. "He's had too much to drink and he's been having a really hard time lately. He didn't mean anything he said and you didn't deserve to be yelled at." Turning to face Oliver, she raised an eyebrow. "You, mister, are done for the night, let's go."

"Felicity," he said, his voice soft like she'd never heard it before. He reached for her, his hands cupping her face. "You  _came_ …"

"Of course I came. It's two in the morning and I'm concerned. Now come on, we need to leave…" She led him away from the bouncer, waving back at him apologetically. He nodded in return. Felicity brought Oliver to the passenger seat of her car and told him to get in.

"I woke you up." Oliver shook his head. "'m sorry. I didn't know who else to call. I was sad and I saw your name in my phone and it made sense. You make so much sense."

She half-smiled. "I know. It's okay, just get in the car."

"Please don't be mad at me…" he begged. " _Please_."

"I'm not mad, Oliver. I'm tired and I want to go home, so get in the car."

He nodded as he climbed in, struggling a bit with how tall he was and how small her car was in comparison. She reached over him to put his seatbelt on, clicking it in place.

"You smell good," he murmured tiredly.

"Thank you." She closed the door and searched around the ground for a moment before finding his phone. Scooping it up, she pocketed it and made her way around to the other side of her car. Climbing in, she checked both directions and pulled out onto the road. "Okay, I know you want to go to sleep, but I need you to stay awake. I don't know where your house is, you need to give me directions."

His eyes fluttered open and widened. "No, I can't go home…" He shook his head, his arms crossed over his chest. "My dad… I told him I wouldn't do this anymore. My mom, I don't want her to be mad at me again, please."

Felicity chewed her lip, but nodded. "Okay."

He smiled at her, his head tilting to one side as he stared at her with glazed eyes. " _Felicity_ …"

"I'll take you to my house, okay? The couch might be a little small for you, but it'll have to do."

Hitting the turn signal, she looped around and started back for her apartment. The drive was mostly quiet; Oliver occasionally piped up with something to say, but for the most part he just drifted in and out of sleep. However, half way there, he suddenly groaned irritably.

"What?"

"Hot. It's too hot."

"Okay, well, I can put on the air conditioning if it's really bothering you..."

Oliver didn't appear to hear her though because he took it upon himself to cool down. He unbuttoned his shirt sloppily and then reached for the buckle on his pants.

"Whoa, hey, we're keeping all our clothes on."

He grunted, shaking his head, and slipped his shirt off, struggling to pull it out from behind him. Shirtless, he sat slumped in her passenger seat, frowning as his hands kept wandering back to his pants, where she slapped them to keep them from undoing his pants.

"I mean it, Oliver, keep those pants on." She paused. "Wow, I think that's probably the first time a woman's ever said that to you."

He snorted, his head falling back on the headrest.

Thankfully, however, he fell back into one of his half-asleep modes, drifting out on her.

When they pulled up to her house, she worried he might end up having to sleep in her car, but as soon as she put her car in park and turned it off, he seemed to startle awake, his eyes darting around curiously before landing on her.

" _Hey_ …" he murmured.

"Hi," she said, slightly amused by how goofy his grin was. "We're going to go up to my apartment, okay?"

He laughed, low in his throat. "Are you tryin' to take advantage of me, Miss Smoak?"

She choked on air, a flush building up in her cheeks. "No!"

He blinked a few times, still smiling. "You could. I don't mind."

Rolling her eyes, she huffed. "I don't think you're sober enough to make that decision." Grabbing his shirt, she pushed it at him. "Put this on."

Climbing out of her car, she circled around and opened the door. He hadn't put on his shirt, merely looping it over his neck like a towel. Rolling her eyes, she helped him climb out and steadied him with an arm around his waist while his fell around her shoulders. For a moment, she could admit to admiring how firm he was. He'd mentioned before that he went to the gym and it was hard not to notice that he was physically attractive, but having all that naked skin on display was more than just difficult to ignore, especially when she had her hand pressed against his ribs.

Shaking it off, she focused on the task ahead. As they started toward the apartment building, he leaned on her, his head falling atop hers and breathing in deeply. "You have pretty hair…" He rubbed his cheek against it. "Soft, too."

"Thank you." She helped him up the stairs and dug her key out for the front building door.

"You smell  _really_ good."

"So you've said…"

"I probably smell like shit."

"You've smelled better," she agreed.

He laughed, leaning his head back enough that they almost toppled. Unperturbed by their near fall, he just squeezed his arm around her. "I like that about you. You're honest."

"It's definitely one of my redeeming qualities," she agreed.

Finally getting inside the building, she led him down the hall to the elevator and hit the button for 3. Oliver hummed to himself, tapping his foot, and she wondered if he was imagining elevator music, since there definitely wasn't any actually playing. He let go of her, leaning back against the wall, his eyes half-lidded. She should've realized that was a bad idea, however, because as soon as she wasn't holding him up, he focused back on how overheated he was. He kicked his shoes off and reached down to pull his socks free too. When the door opened, he left both shoes and socks there in the elevator and, while stumbling down the hallway, stripped his belt off and left it on the floor along with the shirt he'd pulled off from around his neck.

Sighing, she called after him. "Oliver, stop!" Gathering up his clothes, she chased after him, catching his arm just before he walked right past her door. "This is me." She stuck her keys in the lock and undid it while he was still fiddling with his pants. He got them off just as her door swung open and she dearly hoped Mrs. Varnel from across the hall didn't suddenly look out her peephole and get an unexpected show.

Oliver kicked his pants free as he walked into her apartment, stretching his arms above his head and rubbing a hand down his face while he scratched his stomach and looked around curiously.

Shaking her head at him, she took his clothes with her to the stacked washer and dryer and tossed them in. She briefly considered that they were designer and probably needed to be dry cleaned, but after reading the labels and finding nothing that said she couldn't use a regular washer, she turned it on and left it to its job. His shoes she brought to her kitchen sink to clean off. There was no way she was leaving those to sit overnight.

When she walked back into her living room, Oliver was, thankfully (if Kelsey was there, she might have said unfortunately) still wearing his underwear. He'd wandered over to a shelf of pictures and was looking at each of them. He had one of her from her graduation at MIT in his hand, cap and gown on while she stood between her parents. He frowned down at it. "Bet your parents are really proud of you."

"They are," she said, walking toward him, eyeing him curiously. "I'm sure your parents aren't as disappointed as you think."

He snorted. "You've never had to meet my dad in his office while he lists all the ways I've made the family look bad…" He put the picture back before stepping away, a little unsteady, and cast his eyes around, never quite focusing on anything until he saw her again, and then he stared, smiling faintly. "You look really pretty tonight. Did you do your hair?"

She reached up to touch it and remembered that she had, actually, for her date with Dale. "Yeah, well, nothing special…"

He walked toward her, cupping her face like he had outside the club. "I like it…" His smile was goofy again. "I like you."

"I like you too," she said, patting his arm awkwardly. At least she hadn't shoulder-punched him; she always felt like such a dork when she did that.

He shook his head, a little more wildly than completely necessary. "No, I  _really_  like you. I like being with you and I like your laugh and your face and that thing you do with your nose…" He tried to mimic her, scrunching his nose up for emphasis. "And I like how you listen to me and I… I like listening to you. I like when you tell me about your day and work and your family. Your crazy nana and your scuba diving husband…" He nodded. "I like you.  _A lot_."

Felicity didn't know what to say, her heart feeling like it had leapt up into her throat.

And then he frowned, his face falling. "I wish Laurel was like you."

Her brow furrowed. "Laurel?"

"She doesn't believe in me. I'm just a disappointment to her. She doesn't think I can have a club. She thinks I'll just waste it all. Just drink it all up…" He waved a hand away, distracted by the movement, and then looked at her, but his eyes were distant. "Laurel used to like me. She used to think it was cute. She used to party with us and I didn't look like such a screw up then. But now she's in law school and I'm just her idiot boyfriend who can't do anything right. She's right. I can't." His brows hiked, a wobbly smile on his mouth. "I'm just some dumb playboy who can't keep his dick in his pants and who drinks way too much and runs away from an—any responsibility…"

He stared down at her, his face screwing up sadly, and then his hand came back and cupped her cheek, his thumbs stroking. "S'different when I was with you though.  _I_ felt different." He poked his own chest. "Like maybe… maybe I could be better, you know? Maybe I wouldn't screw this up… But I'm going to, 'cause I always do. I'm going to let you down and Jasper—" His eyes went wide then. "Jasper! I have to get Jasper! We have to go for our walk in the morning. She's gonna be so upset!"

"Okay, it's okay," she reassured, catching his hands as he waved them around wildly.

"No, s'not. I have to get Jasper. Felicity, Jasper depends on me. She's mine. I have to get her, we have to go for a walk." He started toward the door, but Felicity headed him off.

"Oliver it's 2:30 in the morning, you aren't wearing pants, and Jasper is sleeping. Just like you should be."

"I have to get her. I have to walk her," he mumbled.

"Okay, listen, I will wake you up in the morning and you can take her for her walk, all right? But not right now. Nobody's even there to let you in."

He stared down at her, unfocused, but nodded as if he understood. "Okay… Can't forget about Jasper. She'll hate me…"

"I won't. You'll have Jasper in the morning."

He nodded, swaying a bit to the side.

"Come on, it's time for bed. The sooner you fall asleep, the sooner you can see Jasper." She pointed at the couch and then made her way to the linen closet to get him out a blanket. She had to grab a pillow off her bed for him to use and jumped a little when she turned around to find him leaning in her doorway.

"Can I sleep in here?" he asked hopefully. "I wanna cuddle."

Her lips twitched, but she shook her head. "No, you're sleeping on the couch."

He sighed, looking like a mopey puppy. "Can we cuddle on the couch?"

"No cuddling tonight." She walked past him, carrying the pillow, and waited for him to join her by the couch. "Come on. You're tired and you've had a long day."

He sighed, but stumbled over to the couch, flopping down on it and letting her pull the blanket around him. He laid his head back on the pillow and stared up at her. "Last chance to cuddle," he told her.

She smiled. "I'm sure you'll survive."

He wiggled his eyebrows. "You're missin' out… I am a  _great_ cuddler... An  _olympic_ cuddler!"

With a snort, she shook her head. "And I'll deeply regret that."

He let out a heavy sigh and let his eyes fall closed. " _Felicity_ …"

"Hm?"

But he didn't say anymore, he simply drifted off.

She watched him for a moment, looking peaceful and, oddly, rather sweet. She smoothed the blanket out over him one last time before she made her way into the kitchen to get him a glass of water and some aspirin. Leaving them on the coffee table, within reach, she put his phone down next to them before walking back to her bedroom. She set her alarm so she'd be able to get up early to pick up Jasper before finally climbing into bed and settling down, covers pulled up tight around her shoulders.

She could hear him snoring, and occasionally mumbling something. For some reason, it made her smile. She knew the situation wasn't funny. Oliver was obviously struggling with some serious demons when it came to his family and… his girlfriend.  _Laurel_. Even her name was sophisticated. And she was studying to become a lawyer. Felicity hadn't even met her, this was the first time she'd heard anything about her, but she could just imagine her. A woman as classy and cultured as Moira Queen had been the one time she'd met her. She probably wore designer labels; a leggy model-type who was beautiful and smart. She'd fit in at family photos, looking like a perfect fit beside Oliver Queen; his parents probably loved her.

Turning over, she sighed, burying her face in a pillow. This was good. This was a sign. She needed to stop holding out hope that Oliver would be anything more than a friend. Obviously Dale wasn't the guy for her, but that guy was out there somewhere, and it wasn't as close as her couch. So she would be Oliver's friend, she'd help him through this particular rough patch, and support him just like Kelsey and Jennifer would do for her if she was in the same position. And they would be friends. Great friends.

Still, as she drifted off, she couldn't help but remember her hand on his warm, bare skin and his cheek rubbing against her hair, and that way he said her name, like there was so much more to it than one simple word. Sure, it wasn't going anywhere, but that didn't make her heart feel any less full of him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, as far as I know, that will be the last we hear of Felicity's POV... I'm eager to know what you think of her side of things though. Especially that last bit. I know a lot of you were worried about what Oliver might do or what might happen, but it wasn't quite as dire as it could be. He, unfortunately, won't remember what happened, and you'll have the aftermath in the next chapter where we return to Oliver's POV. I was really excited to share this all with you though, because I do feel like now Felicity's a more rounded, fleshed out character. I hope you enjoyed it, and her friends, who I just adore.
> 
> Thank you so much to everyone who reviewed. I really appreciate it. There were quite a few less than the chapter before, so I wasn't sure if that was because readers weren't interested in her POV or maybe because it was rehashing what they'd already read...? In any case, I hope you enjoyed this chapter and are eager for the next one. :)
> 
> Please leave a review; they're my lifeblood!
> 
> Thanks,
> 
> \- **Lee | Fina**


	5. Chapter Three

 

**III**.

Something wet was touching his face. Wet and cold and…  _smelly_?

Hot breath panted against his face, and, despite being ridiculously tired, Oliver knew he couldn't fall back asleep.

He groaned, irritated, and went to roll over, only to fall right onto the floor. A rustling noise answered him and he opened his bleary eyes to see green carpet staring back at him, and then two rusty paws. His brow furrowed in confusion. Where the hell was he?

"Aspirin and water are on the table, but if you're hung over, I'd suggest a greasy breakfast cure-all."

His head lifted so quickly, his vision blurred. He closed his eyes at the pounding in his temples and frowned. "Felicity?"

And then there was a tongue licking his face and a wet nose bumping his cheeks.

"Jasper?"

She yipped at him happily, sitting down, her tail thumping on the floor.

"Let me guess, you don't remember how you got here…?"

Sighing, he pushed himself up, leaning back against the couch as he scooped up the aspirin and downed the entire glass of water she left him. Jasper sidled over, pressing against his side, and he hung an arm around her, lazily scrubbing his fingers through her fur.

Felicity looked over at him, eyebrow raised and lips tilted with amusement.

She was still in her pajamas, a loose muscle shirt that did nothing to hide the fact that she was not wearing a bra, and a pair of men's Mickey Mouse pajama pants that looked a little big on her. Hers? Or a boyfriends? He frowned. He'd never asked if she was seeing anybody. He'd also never told her about Laurel. The reason behind that felt more obvious than he wanted it to be.

"What'd I do?" he wondered, a creeping sense of worry working its way up his spine. The last time he got this drunk, he pissed on a cop car.

She walked forward and crawled into an arm chair, crossing her legs beneath her. Jasper wiggled out from under his arm and went over to see Felicity, resting her head on Felicity's knee. Smiling down at her, Felicity scratched behind Jasper's ears as she answered, "Well, you called me at 2 in the morning, slurred something about being confused and uh, a complete failure. Then you threw up on your own shoes and I'm pretty sure you started crying…" She winced sympathetically. "I asked where you were and drove over to pick you up. I wanted to take you home, but you were worried about your parents, so I brought you here."

"You let me crash on your couch…"

"Well, you asked if you could cuddle in my bed, but I'm pretty sure that was the tequila talking, so I just put you on the couch. I did tuck you in, though."

He scrubbed his hands over his face, feeling the warm embarrassed flush of his skin against his palms. "I'm sorry. I'm… I was having a bad night."

"Yeah, I know. You told me."

He went still and looked over at her. "I did?"

She half-smiled. "You told your girlfriend about the club idea with Tommy and she didn't take it so well. I guess her disapproval and your worry that your dad is going to tell you it's a bad idea kind of combined to make one nasty club night… For whatever reason, around 2, you were looking through your phone, saw me, and decided to ask for help."

His head fell back as he groaned. "I probably made a complete ass of myself."

"Well, you were shouting at a bouncer when I drove up, but he seemed pretty used to it." She shrugged. "I checked to see if there was any footage up of it, I even hacked TMZ and a few other gossip sites, but it doesn't look like there's anything waiting to go viral, so that's a plus… Before I got you to lay down, you tried to leave to go get Jasper. I promised I'd get you up at five so you could go pick her up. You were pretty upset, actually. You thought she'd hate you if you didn't take her for her morning run. Unfortunately, you didn't look like you were in any shape for walking straight, let alone running. So I picked her up and took her to the park. I asked if we could have her for a few extra hours today and they didn't mind, so I thought I'd bring her back here to wake you up. It was still early though, so  _we_ …" She smiled lovingly down at Jasper, "decided to get a couple more hours sleep, especially since you looked like you still needed them, too."

Absorbing what she was saying, he sighed heavily, pressing his fingers against his eyes and swallowing tightly.

"Oliver, it's really not that bad..."

"It's not great," he countered.

"Look, if you're embarrassed that you called me, don't be. Trust me, my best friend has done a lot worse than you have when she's had me pick her up. Of course, I actually do cuddle with Kelsey when she asks, but she cries if I don't. She's a clingy-drunk."

He let out a faint laugh. "So all I have to do next time is squeeze out some crocodile tears?"

Rolling her eyes at him, she pushed up from her chair, patting Jasper's head. "Come on. You can have a shower and I'll buy you breakfast. We'll drop Jasper off on the way."

He perked up a little. "Something greasy?"

She grinned over at him. "The greasiest."

Nodding, he climbed from the floor and stretched his arms up, working out the kinks in his back from sleeping on the couch. He didn't realize his shirt was missing until her eyes lingered on his chest.

Blushing, she said, "You started undressing on the way back from the club… I managed to keep your pants on for a while, but by the time we hit the hallway, you really couldn't be argued with."

He looked down, finding himself in only his boxer-briefs. "Uh…"

"On the bright side, I was able to clean them. Especially since your pants smelled a little puke-y." Her nose wrinkled. "But yeah, they're folded up, so you can just take a shower and… we'll go." She turned to walk away then, her face still a bright red.

Closing his eyes, he sighed. "I'm sorry, Felicity."

"It's fine, really. I mean, I've seen worse." Her eyes widened. "Oh, I mean, not that you're bad, or that I spend a lot of time with half-naked men. Or fully naked men. Or men, really. Well, I've had a few relationships, I'm not completely innocent. I've had sex before. Lots of sex. I just… I—I'm going to stop talking in 3… 2… 1…" She blew out a disgruntled sigh and hurried into her bedroom.

He stared at the spot she was previously in, a smile slowly pulling at his lips. His head hurt and his stomach was tied in knots, but… Well, that wasn't the worst thing to wake up to. He chuckled under his breath and then looked down to see an excited Jasper peering up at him. He bent to pet her, rubbing behind her ears and kissing the top of her head before he finally started toward the bathroom. His clothes were waiting there, stacked on the sink. He tested the water as he started his shower and stripped off his underwear. As he climbed under the spray, he tried to remember what had happened after he blacked out. It wouldn't be the first time he called someone to get him, he just wondered why he thought of Felicity.

Then again, he really shouldn't have wondered. It was pretty clear why.

* * *

When Oliver climbed out of the shower, towel wrapped around his waist, he was feeling a lot better. He could still do with a few more hours sleep, but he felt refreshed. What he really wanted was a toothbrush, because his mouth could not tasty any grosser. Standing in front of her sink, he looked around, a little hesitant to go digging around in her cabinet for a spare toothbrush. He'd pulled the door open to ask her if she had one somewhere when he heard voices.

"…texted me about going to brunch. I managed to pick Kelsey up off the floor from last night's party and bring her along."

"I texted you?" Felicity replied. "When did I text you?"

"Somewhere between Game of Thrones and Merlin… You said you wanted to complain about some guy named Dale and his tiny feet?"

"Oh… right… That was a terrible date."

"You know what they say about small feet…" another voice piped up with a snort.

"Yeah, I've heard," Felicity replied, amused. "Extensively. Listen, right now's not actually a good time, so maybe we could do dinner instead…?"

"What? No way. I was promised hang-over food. So get your cute butt ready, 'cause we're going somewhere to talk about Dave's tiny dick."

"Dale," Felicity corrected.

Oliver blinked, his brow furrowed as he mouthed to himself, " _Dale?_ " What the hell kind of name was Dale? And who the hell  _was_ Dale?

"And I didn't see his dick," Felicity continued. "He just…  _was_ a dick."

"Did you mace him?"

"No, Kelsey, I did not  _mace_ him."

"I'm just saying, Papa Smoak's emergency mace is going to waste, so you should either use it or give it to me."

Felicity snorted. "I think you've maced enough people for me to never,  _ever_ give you mace again."

"I was fearing for my  _life_!"

"Last time, you were just mad because that woman got that blouse you wanted and it was the last one in your size."

"It was vintage  _Chanel_!"

"Oh my freaking…" Felicity sighed. "Okay, I'm sorry. I'm sorry you had to wake up before you  _clearly_ finished sleeping off last night's bender. But right now is not—"

"Whose dog is that?"

"Hm? Oh, that… That's Jasper," Felicity replied hesitantly.

"Jasper?" There was a pause and then, "As in Oliver Queen's dog?"

"His paired dog, yes."

"And she's here, because…?"

"Oh, she's beautiful," another woman said. "Look at you, you are just stunning, huh?"

A thumping noise followed that Oliver was completely sure was Jasper's tail on the floor. She was clearly a glutton for praise, much like he was.

"Is she still up for adoption? Because, I'm sold. Where's her leash? I'll take her."

"Jenn," Felicity laughed. "Marissa is allergic to dogs."

"Who needs a hot girlfriend with a dog this pretty?"

"I'm partial to having both."

The words left his mouth before he could really register that he'd decided to speak, but, there he was, standing half naked and dripping on the floor in front of three beautiful, gaping women.

He had a fantasy like this once…

"Shut…  _Up_ …" A red-headed woman punched Felicity's shoulder hard enough that she flinched and rubbed it.

" _Ow_ ," she whispered-shouted back at her.

Rolling her eyes, the red-head surged forward. "Kelsey Harris, I'm Smoaks' best friend."

"Co-best friend," the other woman said, a pretty brunette, bent over so she could pet Jasper even as she gave him a curious look-over. "Jennifer Hodges," she introduced. "I'll shake your hand when you're wearing more clothes."

A laugh left him abruptly and he cast his eyes toward Felicity, who was looking nervous, and then down at the smirking Kelsey in front of him.

She cocked her head, a brow raised as she looked him up and down. "Didn't I see you at Viper last night?"

"I wouldn't know. I can't remember most of last night," he admitted plainly. "Although I have it on good authority I was a pathetic drunk who begged Felicity to let me stay over so my parents wouldn't reprimand me... Because apparently I'm sixteen again."

"I picked you up from Viper, actually," Felicity said, walking forward. "And, sorry, Oliver, these are my two best friends. Kelsey and Jennifer. Best friends, this is my friend Oliver, who was not as pathetic as he thinks he was."

"Probably  _more_  than I think I was," he added to Kelsey, half-grinning.

"Been there." Turning on her heel, she stepped back and swung an arm around Felicity's shoulders. "You picked right, though. I usually get Smoaky to pick me up, too."

He smirked. "You must be the one she  _does_ cuddle with."

"You missed out on cuddles?" She arched a brow and pouted her lips in mocking commiseration. "Poor thing. She's a great cuddler."

Lips twitching, Felicity said, "Not quite the Olympic cuddler Oliver claims to be, but I'm sure I do just fine."

He decided to blame what he was sure was an embarrassed flush to his skin on the shower. Reaching up to scratch a hand down his neck, he said, "Uh, before I permanently ruin your floor with water damage, do you have a spare toothbrush I could use?"

"Oh! Yeah, sure." She hurried over, sidling past him into the bathroom to search around.

He turned his attention back to the other two people in the room and offered an awkward smile. "So…"

Kelsey merely smirked at him knowingly, and he decided that was a route he was not ready to go.

He turned to Jennifer, who was completely enamored with Jasper. "You like dogs?"

She looked up, half-smiling. "I do." She shrugged, scrubbing her fingers into the scruff of Jasper's neck. "My partner's allergic though. I'm tempted, but I know I shouldn't." Looking up at him, she wondered, "Jasper's your first pairing?"

He nodded. "Yeah, uh, Felicity actually turned me onto dog walking. My mom's allergic to dogs too, so we never had any growing up."

"That sucks." She stood, still patting Jasper's head at it leaned against her hip. "So this must be a nice alternative, I guess."

"It's interesting. I never really thought about it before, but it works."

"So what happens when she's adopted out? You get paired up with a new one?"

His face fell, eyes focusing down on Jasper's pretty face. "I guess I do."

"Oliver?"

He turned at Felicity's voice to find her hanging off the doorjamb by her fingers. She waved a green toothbrush at him.

Walking toward her, he smiled. "Thank you."

Shrugging, she nodded, passing him the brush and stepping out of the door so he could pass her inside. "Sure."

He caught her hand before she walked away and squeezed, rubbing his thumb over the top as he stared down at her searchingly. "I meant for everything. I… might not remember last night, but…  _Thanks_."

A faint, soft smile met him. "You're welcome."

They stared at each a moment longer, before he finally broke away and stepped inside. He closed the door behind him and stepped up to the sink. For a moment, he just took a breath. That felt  _heavy_. Not entirely in a bad way, just in a… Felicity kind of way. He wondered when things with her had taken on their own life, and then decided it from the word Hi.

Shaking it off, he focused on the toothbrush in his hand his current problem. He was nothing if not a champion at lying to himself, and telling himself things with Felicity were completely platonic was one very big lie.

While he was brushing his teeth, he could still hear them talking outside.

"You have a naked Oliver Queen in your apartment right now," Kelsey mused.

"Well, he did just shower," Felicity said. "If he wasn't naked, I'd have questions."

"Especially if he smells half as bad as Kelsey does after she parties..." Jennifer added with a snort.

"If I smell like anything, it's fun and a lack of regrets."

Jennifer scoffed. "Or underwear."

"Oh, I found those."

" _Where?_ "

"I put them in the freezer… I don't know, I guess I was overheated."

"As enlightening as this all is, can we please call a rain check until tonight?" Felicity interrupted.

"Only if that rain check includes details about how you brought that hunk of Adonis home," Kelsey offered lightly. "And I swear, if you didn't strip him down and rock his world, I will give you the  _worst_ tongue-lashing since the first time you let some inexperienced boy go down on you."

"What does that even  _mean?_ "

"You had a drunk, hot billionaire in your apartment. Tell me you had sex with him! Tell me right now so I can live vicariously through you."

"Kelsey, you have more sex than me and Jennifer put together. If anyone is living vicariously through anyone—"

"Not the point. Do not break my vagina right now and tell me you didn't sleep with him."

Felicity huffed. "You cannot substitute vagina for heart!"

"I just did. There are no rules about that!"

"She's not wrong. We didn't make that a rule," Jennifer reminded.

"Okay, I did not sleep with Oliver. Did you completely forget the part where he was blitzed out drunk?"

"He might've sobered up at some point, I don't know!"

"He didn't. Not until this morning. And we are  _friends_. No—I know where you're going with that thought, Kelsey Jane Harris. We are not sex having friends. We are pick each other up from clubs so we don't do something stupid friends. And work friends. And lunch buddy friends. So I'm sorry if that breaks your vagina, but that is the bottom line."

" _Ugh_. You are a waste of a great ass, you know that?"

"I'm slightly flattered but mostly offended by that."

"What you aren't is laid, which you should be."

" _Kelsey!_ "

"All I'm saying is you went out on a date, didn't sleep with him. Then you picked up a billionaire, didn't sleep with him. Those odds are terrible..."

"I will see you for dinner tonight, thank you for stopping by," Felicity dismissed.

"Do not use your passive-aggressive voice on me!"

"Jenn, will you please distract Kelsey with McDonalds?"

"Ooh, I bet you want a sundae, don't you, Kels? You  _love_  hangover sundaes! We'll get nuts this time."

"I had enough nuts last night. You're not going to distract me with— Do they make milkshakes this early in the morning?"

"I'm sure we could find you a milkshake… Come on, let's leave Smoaky to her morning. You can grill her tonight."

"Don't  _encourage_ her," Felicity complained.

"You want her out now or what?"

She groaned. "Fine. But we're getting take-out."

"Deal."

After a little shuffling, the door finally closed and Oliver focused back on brushing his teeth. Brow furrowed, he absently scrubbed his bottom molars. He wasn't sure if he should be flattered or disappointed. Her friend Kelsey obviously thought she should be pushing the boundaries of friendship, but Felicity was adamant that the only thing between them  _was_ friendship. After all this time telling himself that was exactly what things between them were, he wondered why the thought of it now made a ball of lead sink in his stomach.

* * *

After bringing Jasper back to the shelter, they had breakfast at a little hole in the wall diner that specialized in hangover food. Oliver dug in happily, his headache slowly receding, while Felicity sat across from him. She fished around in her purse while he was filling his mouth with hash browns and brought out a stack of printed pages from her purse, red pen circling various parts and underlining a few others.

"What's that?"

"Research," she said, before laying them out on the table in front of him in three piles. "These are all of the most popular clubs in Starling," she said, pointing to a small stack. "I looked up their websites and then searched reviews for each of them on a few different sites. I've made notes in the margins on what worked and what didn't." She pointed at a second stack. "These are the clubs that started up and failed in the last two years. It's not a deterrent, or it's not supposed to be. I just wanted to see what they did wrong so you guys could avoid doing the same." Finally, she pointed to a third pile. "This is a compilation of the best clubs in the country. Now, they might cater to a different clientele than you're expecting here in Starling, but I thought it could still help, right? You're going to have to find something that sets you apart, but at least this way you'll have an idea of what people are doing, what they're looking for, and what to avoid."

He stared at her a long moment before his eyes fell to take in the piles. "This… must've taken you hours."

She shrugged. "A few days. It was nothing."

He shook his head. "No, it's…" He looked up at her, his brow furrowed. "You're remarkable, you know that?"

She smiled brightly and reached up to adjust her glasses in a nervous gesture he rarely saw. "Thank you for remarking on it."

"I… I can't thank you enough. I mean…" His throat suddenly burned with emotion and he looked up at her, tenderness flooding through him. "I know I've never really said it, but you've been  _amazing_  to me. I know we got off on a rocky foot and I screwed that up, but… Sometimes you're just the only person in my life that I feel actually gets me and… it means a lot."

Felicity reached across the table and found his wrist, squeezing gently. "Well, you were there when I was having a hard time, so it's nothing to do the same for you." She smiled lightly. "It's what friends do, right?"

"Yeah," he said, his voice raspy. "Yeah, friends."

She glanced down at the table for a moment before saying, "Listen, I know it's a sore subject and I might not be the person you want to talk to about it, but… Last night, you said some things about your parents and, I don't know, some fears you have that maybe they're disappointed in you…"

Oliver went completely still, his grip on his fork tightening. "I said that?"

"You… said a lot, actually. You were really upset about things with your parents and Laurel and… You said you always screwed up and that you would again, like you always do."

He could hear his heart banging in his ears. He wouldn't say those weren't fears, they were things he thought of often, he'd just never really voiced them before, so to hear them out loud felt a little overwhelming. A part of him wanted to deny the stark truth behind them, to somehow go back and stop those words from ever getting out. He didn't realize he was afraid until his hand balled up into a fist. He knew he'd been pathetic last night, but the fact that he laid all of that out there… He wasn't sure he wanted to know what she thought of him now.

"I was drunk," he said. "Apparently I'm… a depressing drunk."

She didn't answer right away and he slowly raised his eyes to see her.

She was staring at him a long moment, scanning his face, and then she said, "It's okay to feel lost, Oliver… It's okay to feel like you have no idea what you're doing with your life. But you should never feel like you're a disappointment, because you aren't. You're  _not_  a failure." She shook her head. "I can't speak for your parents, because I don't know them or what's going on in their heads or what kind of history you have with them. But I do know you…

He stared at her hesitantly.

"I know you love dogs and sushi and your favorite person is your little sister. I know Tommy Merlyn is your best friend and there is nobody you trust more than him. I know you hated school, you never felt like you fit there, but you tried because you thought that's what people were supposed to do. I know you hate the corporate world and ties and business meetings bore you to tears. I know how you like your hot dogs, that playing fetch with Jasper will always make you smile, and that you are trying really,  _really_ hard to be a responsible person other people can be proud of…

"But I'm going to tell you something you don't know that you should know…" She shook her head. "You don't  _need_  to make anybody else proud. You only need to make  _you_ proud." She tapped his hand, which he only realized just then was shaking. "Because at the end of the day, having somebody else tell you that you're happy or that you did the right thing or that this is where you are supposed to be doesn't make any of it true unless you actually believe it. So until you do what's right for you and make you proud of yourself, you're never going to fit anywhere."

Swallowing thickly, he blinked back the stinging of his eyes and nodded at her. "Felicity Smoak gets deep," he said lightly, but had to clear his throat when his voice came out thick.

She smiled gently. "Well, I've had some amazing people pick me up on some pretty bad days."

He nodded, shifting in his seat. "I like your friends. Jennifer seems really nice and Kelsey is…"

"She's a whirlwind," Felicity answered with a laugh.

"She is," he agreed, half-grinning. "But it works, the three of you together… I, uh, I've only ever really had Tommy. I guess I was kind of selfish with him, actually. I never really wanted to share and… making more friends was hard." He shook his head. "Growing up like I did, I had to be selective about who I got close to. Tommy was the only I knew wouldn't stab me in the back at the first chance."

"You guys must be really close."

"We are." His brows hiked as he reached for his coffee. "He's like my brother."

"And possible future business partner?" She arched a curious eyebrow.

"Possibly…" He turned his attention down to the papers. "I don't even know where to start."

She rubbed her arms lightly, her elbows on the table, and looked over the stacks thoughtfully. "Well, when I was doing research I thought you could show it to Tommy, put together a plan, and then pitch it to your dad. Maybe he'd sign on to help or be a backer. I'm not really sure how your money situation is, I just know it takes a pretty good chunk of change to start a business from scratch."

He hummed. "I think if I told my dad right off the bat that I wanted to open a club, he'd freeze my trust fund before I could finish the sentence."

"So maybe instead of telling him that's what you're going to do you could appeal to the CEO side of him."

He raised an eyebrow.

"He's a business man, right?" She shrugged. "So show him why he should invest in you."

With that, Felicity launched into the details of a good business plan, sharing ideas with him on how he could pitch it to his dad and what he would want to point out, above all else. Her hands waved around as she spoke, getting more animated the deeper she got. And, while he was listening, hearing how excited she was and how much work it would take to prove the club was a legitimate business deal, all he could think was that this woman, who didn't even like him a few months ago, had supported him more than anybody else ever had. She believed in him. Encouraged his dream. And, without even really meaning to, put him on the right path.

It was what friends did, yes, but he wasn't so sure friendship was the very limit of what he saw with her.

"What do you think?" she asked, smiling at him warmly.

He nodded. "Sounds great," he agreed. "I'll call Tommy, show him everything you put together."

She pumped her fist in success. "I'll be first in line when you open the doors."

"You'll be on the VIP list," he promised.

A light flush tinted her cheeks and he knew he'd never seen anything lovelier.

* * *

"You're serious?" Tommy asked, looking at him excitedly.

He dug the papers out of his briefcase and put them on the table between them. "Felicity did some research for me. We have everything here to help us build a business plan. She even looked up stats on alcohol consumption and what we can expect to be paying each month compared to what we'll bring in." His brows hiked. "So? Do you want to open a club?"

Tommy laughed, climbing from his chair and clapping his hands. "Are you kidding?  _Yeah_ , I want to!" he cheered happily. Shaking his head, he said, "I need to meet this girl of yours. She sounds amazing."

Oliver's excitement ebbed a little. "She is."

He grinned wolfishly. "Pretty too, right? I remember you saying she was pretty."

He nodded slowly, an uncertain feeling suddenly turning his stomach. "Yeah, ,no, she's… Felicity's beautiful."

Tommy's brow furrowed as he pulled his head back a little. "Beautiful," he repeated. "I don't think I've heard you call a woman beautiful since…" His eyes widened as he stared down at him. "Are you sleeping with her?"

"What?" He laughed, shaking his head at the accusation. "No."

Unconvinced, his best friend frowned at him. "Do you  _want_ to…?"

"I…" Oliver sat back in his chair and looked down at the papers in front of him. "It's not about sex. I mean… Yes, I want to sleep with her. But… Felicity's different. She's… special."

"Oh my god, Oliver." He leaned forward. "Are you in love with her? What about  _Laurel?_ "

He sighed, rubbing his hands over his face. "I—I don't  _know_. I…" He shook his head. "Things have been off with Laurel for a while, and… I'm just… I'm  _happy_ when I'm with Felicity." He met Tommy's surprised eyes. "Things just makes sense when I'm with her."

"So… what are you going to do?"

He pinched the bridge of his nose, let out a heavy breath, and then forced himself to smile. "I'm going to put together a business plan, I'm going to pitch it to my dad, and I'm going to be co-owner of Sapphire, Starling City's most popular night club. That's what I'm going to do."

"Sapphire…" Tommy nodded. "Okay. I like it."

"Great." Oliver picked up a stack of papers. "Let's get started."

Tommy eagerly started exploring the information in front of him.

Oliver stared down at the pages in front of him and got to work.

He decided not to think too hard on the fact that he was naming his club after the color of Felicity's eyes when she was happy.

* * *

When the door swung open, he wasn't sure what he was expecting, but Laurel staring up at him with a hesitant smile wasn't it. "Hey," she said quietly. "I… didn't think I'd see you so soon."

He nodded, shifting his feet. "We need to talk."

She let out a heavy breath and pulled the door open wide. "You're right, we do." She walked down the hall, the invitation clear.

After closing the door behind him, he joined her in her living room. Things felt off.  _He_ felt off. Usually, after a fight, he and Laurel were on an unspoken break. A few weeks would pass of him screwing around and hitting the club network hard and then he'd drag himself back to her door, beg for forgiveness, and lay out all the reasons he would be a better person starting right that second. And she would accept his half-assed promises, despite knowing he was almost definitely lying, and they would get back together. Sometimes, half-way through that apology, they'd end up having make-up sex and just put the whole thing behind them. That wasn't the vibe he was feeling tonight. Instead, he felt distant, removed from her in a way he hadn't before.

He opened his mouth to start the conversation, but she'd already turned to face him.

Her eyes were brimming with tears and her mouth quivering. "I need to apologize to you," she started.

He blinked. That… was not how any of these conversations had ever started.

"You came to me and you were really excited about this club and I… I didn't support you, at all." She waved her hands around. "That wasn't fair of me. I should've listened to you and instead I just ripped it apart and I… I'm really sorry, because that wasn't right or fair and…" She shook her head, reaching up to swipe tears from her cheeks. "It's just, Ollie, you have to understand, we've been doing this for  _so_ long and it just feels like every time we're making any kind of progress, you pull back or you get scared or you get  _drunk…_ "

He nodded. "I do," he agreed. "I run, every time. As soon as any kind of responsibility shows up in my life, I'll be the first person to do anything not to have to carry it… But this club, Laurel, I  _want_ this. I want something of my own. Not— Not something my dad built and expects me to take over." He clenched his teeth, a muscle ticking in his jaw. "I can't fit in his shoes… I never will."

She stared at him a long moment, her brow furrowed, before finally she nodded, a jerky shake of her head. "Okay."

He smiled, but it was bitter. "This is usually the part where you tell me that I need to be better or you won't stick around… And then I lie, and I tell you I'm going to be exactly what you want… But I'm not. I'm never gonna be the guy that you want in your life." He licked his lips. "And we're just gonna keep doing this until you finally stop forgiving me."

"You're not the one who needs to be forgiven here." She walked toward him, reaching up to tuck her hair behind her ears as tears dribbled down her cheeks. "This was me. I wasn't hearing you. I—I wasn't even  _listening_. I've just been so…  _busy_ with school, and when you needed me to hear you, I just shut down. I…  _assumed_ that it was just another one of your excuses. Because that's all I ever get." She stared up at him, her eyes sad. "It's excuses with you. Just something to hold us over until the next time you drink too much or you drop out of school or you spend the weekend with three Victoria's Secret models… And you're right, I do forgive you, for all of that, so just… just this once, can you forgive me for not hearing you?" Slowly, she reached for his hand, squeezing it tight, her thumb rubbing circles around his knuckles. "I should've listened. And I  _will_ this time…" She tugged on his hand as she backed up toward the couch. "Please? Ollie? Just… tell me about the club, about  _anything_ …"

He stared at her.

Beautiful, loyal, loving Laurel… who put up with so much over the years. Who forgave him every time he screwed up, every time he cheated on her, every time she had to bail him out of jail. Who loved him when he did nothing to earn it. And even though he knew it was a mistake, he sat down on the couch, he let Laurel curl up against his side, and he told her about the business proposal and what he saw in his future. He told her about a club he was naming after another woman and he added it to the list of reasons he was a shit person.

* * *

The following afternoon found him in a flower shop. It wouldn't be the first time he'd argued with Laurel and found himself feeling like he owed her something. She'd repeatedly told him it wasn't his fault that they fought, but guilt was gnawing at him and the only way he knew to make it go away was through gifts. The roses he was standing in front of were familiar; as in, he'd frequently bought bouquets of the same a hundred times before, but something wasn't clicking as he stood frowning down at them.

"Oliver, right?"

He tore his eyes away and looked up to find himself looking at a pretty brunette he vaguely recognized.

Her mouth ticked up at the corner. "Jennifer," she told him, tucking her hands into the front pocket of her smock. "Felicity's best friend."

He leaned back. "Right. Her co-best friend," he remembered with a faint smile.

Laughing lightly, a soft tinkling noise, she nodded. "So? What are you looking for exactly? Apology flowers? Thank you flowers? Sorry your baby's so ugly flowers?"

His brows hiked. "I'm not sure the last one has a card to go with it…"

"I'm sure it does, but there are a select few you could give it to without being assaulted." She shrugged, glancing down at the flowers. "Or maybe something a little more… romantic?" She reached out to touch the deep red petal of a rose. "These aren't bad. A little clichéd, but you get used to that owning a flower shop." With a shrug, she walked past him to a bouquet of wild flowers on the opposite shelf, the colors loud and eye-catching. "Depending on who you're buying them for, I always say personality is better than tradition." Cupping her hand under an orange and pink tiger lily, she explained, "The key to flowers is to make sure you get them for the person, not the sentiment."

His brow furrowed. "Isn't there a whole thing about what flowers mean? I thought women liked that kind of thing..."

"People like it when they get things for  _them_. You can buy roses because they're the most expensive or because tradition says they're the most romantic. Or you could buy daisies because they're a girl's favorite.  _Or_  you could buy a bouquet of wild flowers because when you look at them, they remind you of her spirit or the way she's always waving her hands around or maybe because when you're with her, your heartbeat forgets how to slow down…" She shrugged, tucking her hands back in her pockets. "But, by all means, if traditional is what you're looking for, those are fresh roses. I grew them myself. And the thorns aren't nearly as sharp if you take care of them well… But if you're looking for something a little less traditional, maybe something with a little more heart than the others, then this is where I'd point you."

He looked at her a long moment, the undercurrent of her meaning floating in the air. He looked past her shoulder to the wild flowers and his mouth turned up at the corner.

"Or maybe today isn't the day you get flowers," Jennifer said knowingly. "Maybe another day, when the choice isn't so hard."

He looked back at her and nodded. "Thank you."

"Sure," she said. "Good seeing you."

"You too."

Another day then, he decided, as he stepped out onto the street, walking away with his shoulders weighed down far more than they should. But the farther he got from the shop, all he could think was that there was no choice to make. He wanted wild flowers, he just wasn't sure he deserved them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A shorter chapter this time, but I felt this was a good place to leave it. There's a lot going on here, actually. Oliver gets to meet Felicity's crazy friends, Felicity helps him through a little bit of his self-esteem issues, Tommy and Oliver are a go for the club, Oliver and Laurel finally talk, even if a lot more is going unsaid, and Jennifer sees what's going on and puts it into perspective for Oliver.
> 
> Here's what I'm going to say about the Laurel/Oliver non-break-up... Oliver feels he owes Laurel. He's still in the beginning stages of changing his life and he's terrified of the unknown. He's used to Laurel - she's familiar - and this time it's not him making a mistake. But he does feel guilty because while she's apologizing and trying to make things better, he's still not being completely honest with her. There is a lot that he needs to say and hasn't. And that will come to a head, I promise, but I do want to stay honest with canon Oliver and he was a coward. He makes bad decisions and, here, he's still learning. Oliver can only deal with one thing at a time, and he has to show his dad that him going into the club business is a good idea. I'd love to hear how you think that will turn out... Will Robert yay or nay the club idea?
> 
> Please leave a review, I'm eager to know what you all think. Thanks so much for reading!
> 
> - **Lee | Fina**


	6. Chapter Four

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Beautiful fic poster made by** : [dhfreak](http://dhfreak.tumblr.com/post/72956851210/we-keep-all-our-promises-be-us-against-the)  
>  **inspiration** : [gif](http://i1122.photobucket.com/albums/l522/fina_gifs/tumblr_m4q0e76gCW1ru4tifo1_500_zpsad5727b6.gif) ([source](http://movies-quotes.tumblr.com/post/23917316604))  
>  **Polyvore** : [Felicity's outfit at Tommy's](http://www.polyvore.com/felicity/set?id=112134354)

 

**IV.**

"So things with you and Laurel are…" Tommy trailed off, wiggling his eyebrows in question.

"Back on," Oliver answered with a shrug.

"And you're…  _okay_ with that?" He stared at him searchingly.

"I'm used to it." He leaned back into the overstuffed arm chair, his feet up on Tommy's coffee table. "I screw up, we break up, I apologize, she forgives me… Only this time,  _she_  screwed up and  _she_  apologized." His brows hiked. "It's a nice change actually. A lot more make-up sex when she's the one who's sorry…"

Tommy hummed, absently picking at the label on his beer. "Right and, not to judge but, you and Felicity… still friends?"

"Yeah." He nodded, mouth pulling up in a smile. "We took Jasper for a walk yesterday through the park, got ice cream…" He frowned. "She likes Tiger. I  _hate_ black licorice. I told her it was weird, but apparently she gets pretty defensive over ice cream."

Tommy blinked at him. "So, just to get this straight… You're dating Laurel, who you made pretty clear to that your relationship was never really going to work, while hanging out with Felicity, who you're kind of falling in love with…"

Oliver's eyes narrowed as he took it all in before he nodded slowly. "Yup."

"And you're not breaking up with Laurel because…?"

He shrugged. "I have enough on my plate right now. Besides, Laurel and I almost never see each other. She's busy with law school." He tipped his beer back for a long swig.

"Which means more time to spend with Felicity…" Tommy waved a finger around.

"Uh-huh."

"And you don't think, I don't know, maybe this is going to blow up in your face…? Massively."

"Felicity is my friend. I… I'm not even sure she would reciprocate my feelings. What I do know is that she's been there for be during a really rough part of my life, she's helping me with this business stuff, and I'm not sure I could do any of it without her. So yes, I'm going to keep dating Laurel until that… does whatever it's going to do. And in the meantime, we're going to get this business off the ground."

Tommy let out a sigh, but leaned forward in his seat on the couch. "Fine. Your call, man. But just so we're clear, I tried to warn you and you thought you had it under control."

"Duly noted."

* * *

Putting together a business plan took a lot more work than Oliver was used to. Unlike in college, however, the topic was something he liked, and something he knew a lot about. So he didn't feel quite as overwhelmed as he had in any of the four schools he dropped out of. Instead, he met each problem one at a time. And if he didn't know what he was doing, he either let Tommy take over or he figured it out.

They sat down with someone to sketch out a blueprint of what they wanted the club to look like, building it from the ground up. Researching Starling City, they found a few different pieces of land currently up for sale, and only one that would be ideal in terms of size and location. The blueprints were extremely detailed, going far beyond the general landscape that Oliver and Tommy knew of the usual club; they had to find room for stock, offices, custodial equipment, etc. It was bigger than he'd first thought up in his head, but the larger it became, the more motivated he was to make it a reality.

This was going to be the best club in all of Starling City. Not just the loudest or largest; it would have everything anyone could want. When he made a name for himself, it would be built on his own hard work and sweat. With the finished product in his hands, he felt one step closer to achieving that goal.

Now all they needed was someone to help them put together a PowerPoint presentation that would wow even  _his_ stoic father.

And he knew just the person for the job.

* * *

Oliver jumped up at the knock at the front door. "I've got it," he shouted to Tommy, who was in the kitchen.

Dropping his beer back to the table, he hopped over a foot rest and half-jogged to the door before wrenching it open with a grin.

Felicity was faced away from him, chewing her lip as she stared at a piece of paper with directions on it. A fishtail braid reached down her back, swaying against her pale pink sweater as she turned to face him. Her lips stretched into a smile. "Hey. So I did get the right apartment…"

He nodded, pulling the door open wide. "Welcome to Tommy's not so humble abode."

"I take offense to that," Tommy's cheerful voice called out. "That naked sculpture of me was a necessary buy."

"Don't believe whatever he tells you; they definitely enhanced a few things on that sculpture," Oliver stage-whispered to her.

Felicity arched an amused eyebrow at him. "Locker room comparison?"

He shrugged. "Always the victor," he reminded with a wink.

"So, this must be the illustrious Felicity," Tommy said, appearing in front of her then. He beamed at her, clapping his hands together. "Thank God you're here, because I am  _terrible_ with computers… I've killed at least two and wounded the latest one out of spite."

Felicity laughed lightly. "Then I'm glad to play doctor to the wounded soldier."

"Right this way, Dr. Smoak," Tommy beckoned, turning on his heel and making his way to the living room. "You have any trouble finding the place?" he wondered.

She shrugged. "Only reading my own handwriting. I was fine until I actually got to the building, and then I couldn't tell what apartment number I scribbled down."

"Well, you found us, so that's a plus."

"And on the first try, too." She took a seat on the couch, in front of where Tommy left the laptop open. Taking it from its perch on the coffee table, she crossed her legs under her and leaned back on the couch as she started typing. "Do you have any kind of protection on this laptop?" she wondered, raising an eyebrow.

"Uh, whatever it came with." Tommy shrugged.

Felicity's nose scrunched up and Oliver smiled reflexively.

"Okay. Just give me a few minutes to, uh, fix some things, and then we'll get started on the presentation."

"Great." Tommy pointed at her. "You thirsty? I've got beer, margarita mix, hard liquor, water, and questionable milk."

Her lips twitched. "Beer is fine."

"Comin' right up."

Felicity's gaze settled back on the computer while Tommy turned to walk away, stopping to give Oliver an o-k sign with his finger and drop his mouth open, brow furrowed.

Oliver rolled his eyes and moved to take a seat beside her on the couch. "So? What's the prognosis?"

She looked up at him with a smile. "Well, it's obvious you guys are tech-newbs, but it's salvageable. It shouldn't take us too long to get something going. Do you have all the paperwork you want to use? Is any of it actually on here or are we reciting for me to add to the presentation?"

"It's all on there. Tommy typed it up himself. We have a hard copy, too."

"Great." She nodded, pushed the laptop to one knee as she turned to him. "So? How does it feel to be on the verge of building your own company?"

"A little scary," he admitted, "but also pretty… awesome."

Reaching over, she rubbed his arm, fingers curving in at his elbow and squeezing. "The stuff that really matters, it's usually pretty scary. Big, life-altering steps and all that jazz."

He stared at her a long moment, the way her glasses kept sloping down her nose, and how bright her eyes were. Yeah, the big, life-altering stuff was scary, but also completely worth it.

"All right, beer for everyone," Tommy said, coming out with three bottles tucked between his fingers. "How's the battle coming?" he wondered, looking down at the laptop she'd set aside.

"I'm scanning for viruses right now. A little piece of my soul hurts that this defenseless computer has been without any kind of protection. This isn't a poor, drunk college girl you convince you're too big to wear a condom for, which is basically impossible by the way, I don't care what that statue depicts."

Tommy choked, laughing as beer dribbled down his chin.

Oliver chuckled, his head falling back to the couch.

Felicity, a little flushed by what she'd said, focused back on the laptop and started getting the PowerPoint ready.

The whole process took a lot longer than any of them were expecting. While they wanted it to look professional, they also recognized that they were opening a club, so it wasn't going to go overboard on class. Not when everybody knew that this was going to be a business where people probably regularly threw up in the alley behind it. There were creative differences, too. While Felicity wasn't eager to add her two-cents, since it wasn't her business, she did pipe up when she thought it was leaning too close to the cheesy side of things. Eventually, he and Tommy settled on what they liked, coming to a compromise on a few things and moving forward.

So, more than a few hours passed, with breaks for take-out, a beer run, and general slacking off, before they finally had the finished presentation at the ready.

Stretching her arms above her head, Felicity twisted side to side to get the kinks out of her back. "Feels like college again," she muttered, standing up. "Although I'm not sure my group partners ever had a 'who can chug this beer faster' contest to decide on color schemes…"

"Then they were missing out," Tommy said, leaning back comfortably in his armchair, his feet up on the coffee table. He was a little buzzed and more than a little happy, grinning lazily. "Can you believe this? We're gonna be business owners!"

Felicity smiled at him before turning her head to Oliver. "So? What do you think? You like it?"

He nodded, staring down at the laptop with the presentation running through on repeat. A faint, satisfied smile played over his lips.

He reached for her, his hand landing on her knee and squeezing. "Thank you." Turning his head up, he met her eyes. "I know I've said it a few times, but I think if it was just me and Tommy doing this, we'd have a half-baked idea that never really went anywhere."

Shaking her head, she covered his hand and shifted to face him better. "You don't give yourself enough credit. You and Tommy came up with this. I'm just the moral and tech support for it."

"You're a lot more than that," he argued sincerely.

Her expression softened. "You know you've come a long way from when we first met… And I'm pretty proud I got to see that."

Oliver's heart swooped in his chest in a way he wasn't familiar with.  _Proud_. That word always struck him as funny for some reason. What did he have to be proud of? What did anybody he knew have to be proud of him for? But here was this woman, this amazing, talented, smart woman, telling him she was proud of how far he'd come, and it hit him hard. Harder than he ever expected. He hugged her on impulse, pulling her into him, his arms banding around her and his head falling to her shoulder. He sighed, relaxing into her. She smelled like mango body wash and floral shampoo. If he had it his way, he'd never let go.

He caught Tommy's eye then. His best friend stared at him a long moment, looking far more serious than he had a few minutes ago, and then Tommy nodded. In approval, or understanding, Oliver didn't know. Maybe he understood what it was like to never quite feel proud of himself, or as if anybody else did either. It wasn't unlikely with a father like Malcolm Merlyn. But he and Tommy didn't often talk about those things, not unless they were both shitfaced.

When he finally let go of Felicity, he immediately felt like pulling her back in. If things were different, maybe if he'd broken up with Laurel like he knew he should have, maybe then he could've held on. Or leaned them back to show off those Olympic cuddling skills of his. He could imagine that. It was ridiculously easy to imagine himself cuddled up with Felicity on a lazy Sunday morning, tangled together on her couch or in her bed. He could imagine the bedhead she'd have, with all of her blonde curls spread out, frizzy from moving around in her sleep. He could see himself curling around her for an afternoon nap, with Jasper laid out on the end of the bed, pressing her cold nose to his toes. And he'd go to the club at night, he'd manage it alongside his best friend, and come home to her. His green toothbrush beside her blue. A picture of him and Tommy standing in front of a Grand Opening banner set beside her graduation picture with her parents on the mantle. It was so damn easy to imagine a future with her.

If he was a braver man, he might've kissed her then, staring up at him with pale pink cheeks and parted lips.

But he was still a coward who had a girlfriend, so he sat back and let the regret settle into his bones.

Felicity didn't stay for much longer after. She had dinner plans with Kelsey and Jennifer. Oliver and Tommy walked her to the door, with his best friend swooping down to kiss her cheek in thanks. He made a loud smacking noise as he did and Felicity laughed, grinning up at him.

"It was nice meeting you, Tommy."

"The pleasure is all mine." He wiggled his eyebrows. "After we get funding, you'll have to let us take you out for a celebratory drink. Maybe we'll hit Starling's current best clubs for one last hurrah before we blow them out of the water."

Felicity nodded. "I'm in."

"Great!" Tommy clapped Oliver's shoulder before he stepped out of the doorway and made his way back into the apartment.

Oliver lingered. "So… that was Tommy."

"I can see the appeal," she said.

His brows shot up.  _Appeal?_ What?

"He reminds me of Kelsey. The kind of best friend that makes sure you have fun, even when you're at your lowest. It's good for you. Plus he seems really dedicated to this club. You lucked out in the friend department." She looked up at him with a half-smile. "So did he."

Oliver's shoulders loosened up then. He hadn't realized quite how tense he'd gone until he realized she meant appealing in a friend way. The idea that the afternoon might have convinced her that Tommy was someone she might want to spend time with in a more personal way made his stomach twist up uncomfortably. He had no room to judge, of course. He had Laurel and was actively hanging out with a woman that he knew he had feelings for. Felicity was unattached and hadn't given him any sign that she'd be interested in more than friendship. He had no right to stop her from seeing anyone else. But Tommy…? He wasn't sure he could handle it if it was Tommy. Actually, he was pretty sure his best friend would never do that to him, but even the thought that Felicity might want Tommy over him stung.

"He's a good friend. The  _best_ friend I could ask for," Oliver admitted. "I don't know where I'd be without him."

"Probably depressed and lonely and longing for someone you never knew," Tommy called out in the distance.

Oliver rolled his eyes.

Chuckling under her breath, Felicity shook her head. "I think that's my cue to get out of here." She took a step forward and reached up to hug him.

Oliver's arms slung low around her waist and squeezed. Was this going to be a common thing now? he wondered. Because the letting go part seemed to be getting harder.

"I want to know every detail after you present to your dad," she told him, her breath tickling his ear.

He nodded. "You'll be my first call."

She released him and fell back to her heels. "Okay." She patted his chest and gave him a thumb's up. "Good luck!"

He smiled down at her. "Thank you."

With one last nod, she turned to leave, making her way down the hall toward the elevator.

He watched her go, raising a hand to wave when she turned back to look at him and smiled.

When the elevator doors closed on her, he walked back into the apartment and made his way back to the living room, where Tommy was cleaning up the empty beer bottles.

Cheesy grin in place, Tommy turned to him. "You have it so bad…" he teased.

Oliver groaned and fell forward, face planting on the couch. "She's so amazing," he whined.

Chuckling, Tommy agreed, "Yeah, she is. She's smart, gorgeous, funny,  _totally_ out of your league, and yet…"

Oliver peeked an eye open and looked up at him. "What?"

"Maybe it's the beer talking, but I don't think you were the only one staring  _longingly_ tonight…" He shrugged as he walked off to the kitchen. "You might just have hit the lottery with this one, buddy. I don't think it's one-sided at all."

Oliver stared after him, his brows hiked. And then his heart got that weird light feeling and he buried his goofy smile in the couch cushions.

* * *

They were set to present to his father the following afternoon and Oliver had spent most of his night going over the PowerPoint presentation. He'd already presented it to Laurel three times, but at this point she was just studying while he ran through it again in her living room. He was nervous; sweaty palms and twisting stomach nervous.

"Is it normal to feel like throwing up?" he wondered.

Laurel looked up at him from the book in her lap. "Sure. It's a big deal to you. This is the first time you're presenting something that's all your idea. If he shoots it down, that feels personal."

He grimaced. "Do you think he will?"

With a faint sigh, she leaned back in her seat, crossing her arms over her chest. "Ollie, your dad asked you to shadow him for a reason. He wants a protégé, someone to take after him. He's not expecting to invest in a club, no matter how flashy you make it."

"It's not flashy…" he argued, frowning.

She raised an eyebrow.

"All right, it's a little flashy, but no more than any other club." He shrugged. "And we spent a lot of time making sure the PowerPoint made it look as classy as it could."

"Which is great, but your dad isn't exactly a follower of the club scene…"

He glowered. "Well, then, it's a good thing he's not going to  _own_ a club. He'll be investing in  _me_."

Her lips pursed then and Oliver sighed. "What?"

"I just… I think it'll be difficult."

He waited for her to expand, but when she didn't, he prompted, "Because…?"

"Because, to invest in you he needs proof that you're… you know… worth investing in."

His heart tripped down into his stomach and died a miserable death in the acid there. "And?"

"And your history kind of speaks for itself…" She dropped her gaze for a moment and then shook her head. "I'm not saying you're not worth it. I'm saying, on paper, it doesn't look good." Smiling then, she encouraged, "So you just have to make him see that your history doesn't define you, right?"

He nodded slowly. "Right."

But all the hope he'd had felt like it had been let out of him, and now all that was left was uncertainty.

"Come on." Laurel closed her book. "Present to me one more time."

He half-smiled and stepped back to do just that, but there wasn't half as much enthusiasm as there had been the last few times.

* * *

Oliver was early, and his first stop was the IT floor, where he hurriedly made his way toward Felicity's desk, panicking when he found it empty.

"She's in the break room," one of the neighboring cubicles informed him.

Nodding, he hurried off in that direction. As he walked through the door, he found her pouring herself a mug of coffee, frowning down at the creamer uncertainly.

"Felicity." There was an immeasurable amount of worries and fears infused in his fractured voice. The top three being: ' _Help!' 'I need you!' 'I'm gonna fuck this up!'_

She turned, leaving her mug and making her way to him. "Hey! Are you okay? You don't look so good…" She reached up to wipe at his forehead. "Do you have a fever? Because you're sweating like crazy."

He felt like he was on the verge of hyperventilating. "We have to present to my dad in an hour and… I don't think I can do this."

Felicity led him to the table tucked against the wall then and pushed his shoulder to get him to sit down. "Okay. Tell me exactly what you're thinking…"

"He's not going to like it." Leaning forward in his seat, he rested his elbows on his knees and scrubbed his fingers back through his hair, tugging on it. "He'll be pissed! I'm supposed to be shadowing him, settling down, leaving the club scene, and instead I'm opening a club of my own!" His brows hiked high and he let out a cracked laugh. "Why did I think this was a good idea?"

Felicity reached for him, taking his wrists into her hands and tugging on them. His fingers released from his hair and he stared at them resting over her palms. Her hands were so small compared to his, with bright orange painted over her nails. She rubbed her thumbs over and around his knuckles in a calming pattern. "Oliver, take a breath."

He sucked in air through his nose, his chest heaving, and then let it out in a rush. Raising his eyes, he met hers, watching her expression soften, a smile pulling up one corner of her mouth.

"Why are you happy when you're at a club?"

His brow furrowed.

"Humor me."

He glanced away before shaking his head. "I… I don't know. I forget about everything else. There's no more stress or commitments or disappointed parents breathing down my neck."

"Right, and why did you want to open a club?"

"Because I want something of my own and this is something I know about. I know how to entertain people. I know what a club needs to be good. I know what people  _want_."

"And what do  _you_ want?"

He almost –  _almost_ \- said, " _You_." But now was not the time and it wasn't what she meant. "I want to be happy… I want to do something I'll actually like. I want to be able to say that this club is mine. Mine and Tommy's. It's not passed down to me from dad when he's ready to retire. It's not shoes too big to fill. It's not an office job that I can actually physically feel my brain leaking out of my ears in. It's not everything I hate. And I know that there is a  _lot_ of potential for me to fuck this up, but I am going to try  _really_ hard not to." He didn't realize that he was gripping her hands now, that he was telling her this as if he was trying to convince her, until she nodded, squeezing his hands back.

"Just like that," she told him. "When he asks you why, and he will because he's a businessman. He built this company on his back. He probably thinks he's giving you a gift my telling you to shadow him and learn the company and this will all be yours. And you know what, it might be, for some people. But it's okay not to want to play dress up in your dad's business suits. You don't have to be this man. You can be any man you want to be. Any man that makes you happy. So if that man runs his own club and finds pride in building it from the foundation up and who spends weeks working on business plans and hours on PowerPoint presentations, and finally feels like he's getting something right, then that is exactly who you should be. Now  _stop_ doubting yourself. Because if you don't believe you can do it, why should he?" She released one of his hands and reached across to straighten out his tie, running a hand down it. "So when he asks you why, Oliver… tell him exactly what you told me."

He stared at her searchingly, some of the fear and uncertainty leeching from his tensed frame. It wasn't all gone, some lingered, but the pit of anxiety that had welled up in his stomach and crawled up his throat to choke him had dissipated, and that was enough. So he let out a faint, breathless laugh, nodded, and smiled at her. "Thank you," he said, and with that, he stood, straightening out his suit jacket. "I'll tell you how it goes." And with that, he bent, pressing a kiss to the top of her head, before he turned and walked away, ready to face whatever outcome resulted from this meeting with his father.

He felt good.

He felt ready.

He felt hopeful.

* * *

Robert Queen stared at them from his seat at the head of the conference room table.

The tasteful PowerPoint presentation Oliver and Tommy had put together was still up on the screen and the blueprints of how they wanted the club to look were spread out in front of his father.

Tommy was grinning, looking proud of what they'd put together and eager for a response. That smile dimmed to nothing when Robert spoke.

Tapping his pen against the table, Robert nodded. "Tommy, will you give me a moment with my son?"

"Sure." He patted Oliver on the shoulder supportively before he walked out, closing the door behind him.

Everything was quiet for a long moment, tension filling the room.

"A night club," his father said, his voice devoid of emotion.

Oliver lifted his chin. "Yes.  _Sapphire_."

His father peered at him through narrowed eyes. "I offer you a billion dollar company, all you have to do is shadow me, learn what I teach you, and you want to open a night club with your best friend… In a city, I might add, that already has more than its fair share of clubs and bars."

Oliver stepped forward. "We'll be different. We've done our research on this. I know who our competition will be. I know what they're doing to bring in customers. I know what I have to do to bring in more. In the beginning, people will come because they're curious, because they want to see what I have to offer." He grinned, shaking his head. "They might even be waiting to see me fail. But I'm going to prove them wrong. I'm going to have a successful business, and I'll do everything I can to make that happen."

Robert hummed noncommittally. "And if I told you I wouldn't finance it? That I would freeze your accounts?"

Oliver swallowed thickly, tightening his fingers into fists when he felt them shake. That sour taste of having done something wrong, of being told he made a mistake, of not living up to expectation, it bit and burned at the back of his throat.

And then he remembered that this was something he wanted. Something that made him happy. Something that was all his. He remembered what Felicity said, about needing to believe in himself and what he wanted or nobody else would. So he raised his chin and for the first time he really looked at a life that wouldn't have the financial backing of his parents. He considered what it would mean not to fall back on the safety net they provided. Fuck anybody who didn't think that was scary, because he had never known anything else. But he'd lived his nine lives and then some, and it was time to stop asking mommy and daddy to forgive him his indiscretions. This was supposed to be a new start.  _His_ start. At a whole new life, fully independent. Maybe that started right now.

"Then I'll go to a bank and I'll take out a loan. I'll beg Tommy's dad to take a chance on us and I'll pay back every dime plus interest… It won't be easy, and I'll probably make a lot of mistakes, but I want this. I want to do this. And I think, if you give me a chance, that I can."

With a sigh, Robert dropped his pen to his desk and leaned forward, steepling his fingers. "You're right. You will make mistakes. And the chances of this working out, of you running a business with no formal education behind you… are slim."

Oliver gritted his teeth and blinked at the sting in his eyes. With a nod, he said, "Thank you for hearing us out," before he gathered up his portfolios and his business plan slowly enough that it seemed he was unaffected but fast enough that he wasn't giving the impression that he was lingering, hoping his father might change his mind.

"So what's the next step?" Robert wondered. "You go to Malcolm? Ask him to pay?"

"We pitch it to him, ask him to back us and make up a repayment plan. If he doesn't want to, we try somebody else. We pitch it to the bank, to anybody who will listen." Oliver offered a sarcastic smile. "It's not like I don't know a few other billionaires."

Robert's brow arched. "And you just keep pitching it, huh? Until someone bites."

He nodded. "That's right."

"And what about in the meantime? What do you do to make ends meet then?"

He flinched. No home, no money, no net.

"Tommy will let me stay with him until I get on my feet." He closed his briefcase and stood tall, meeting his dad's stern gaze across the table. "I'm sorry I disappointed you… That I didn't fit what you wanted me to, as a protégé."  _As a son._

Robert rested his elbows on the table and looked at him seriously. "You know, Oliver, it wasn't that I wanted you to fill my shoes, that's not what would've made me proud. What I wanted was for you to do something,  _anything_ , instead of just scraping by in life."

He nodded. "I know. You had expectations of me that I never met. I… I made a lot of mistakes and I didn't take things seriously enough. Which is why I'm not surprised you don't want to invest in me." He offered a faint smile and pointed at him with all the false bravado he'd perfected over the years. "But I'm going to prove you wrong."

With that, he left, his head held high, and his briefcase gripped tight in his hand.

"So?" Tommy asked, waiting for him in the hall.

Oliver offered him a humorless smile.

Tommy nodded, smiling sympathetically. "It's okay. We've got other avenues, right?" He clapped his arm before he started walking backwards, grinning as he pointed at him. "We're doing this, buddy. Nothing's gonna stop us."

Oliver nodded, and followed him out, but he could admit that it didn't feel quite as awesome as it did before.

* * *

That afternoon, Oliver picked Jasper up early and took her to the park, but he didn't play fetch with her like she wanted. Instead he sat in the grass, his chin propped on a fist, Jasper's head in his lap, and he scrubbed his fingers down her neck and behind her ear. Picking up on his mood, she'd stuck close to him, looking up at him often, as if she was checking to see if he was okay. Tommy had immediately gone home to start going over the plan again. He'd called his father's secretary as they were leaving Queen Consolidated to figure out where they might fit on the schedule. They had other options in the meantime, but Oliver needed some separation from it all.

His father had rejected him.

Sure, he'd made a lot of mistakes. More than he could count really. But his father never turned his back on him. And he knew things had been different lately. He was supposed to be turning over a new leaf, and maybe it seemed like this was the opposite of that, but he thought they'd explained the club the right way. That it wasn't just going to be somewhere for him and Tommy to go and get drunk and circumvent their responsibilities. It was a legitimate business that they happened to have a lot of hands-on experience with. Not always in the best way, but that wouldn't be the case this time. He was going to have a real business; he would oversee everything with Tommy. He wouldn't be down there in the middle of the dance floor unless it was a night off and he needed to blow off steam.

His father—His  _own_ father told him he didn't want to invest in what he was sure would be a mistake.

He let out a bitter laugh, his head falling back, eyes swimming in tears.

"Hey."

He blinked rapidly and turned, sniffing quickly and clearing his throat as he spotted Felicity a few feet away, her hands tucked in the pockets of her red jacket.

Jasper's tail thumped wildly and she lifted her head to see Felicity, excited to see a familiar face.

Felicity smiled down at the dog before raising her eyes once more to see him. "Tommy called… I don't actually know how he got my number. I think he said something about flirting with one of the assistants on my floor, which is a little worrisome in terms of security, but I'm getting off track…" She waved a hand to help focus back on the beginning. "He said things didn't turn out the way you hoped. He didn't know where you went, but…" She shrugged, casting her eyes around the park. "I took a wild guess."

He nodded and turned his head so he was looking down at Jasper's pretty face. He scratched behind her ear and focused solely on her and her soft fur as he pet down her back.

Felicity walked closer and took a seat beside him, close enough that their shoulders brushed. They sat in silence for a long time. Not uncomfortable silence, but the kind that was simply understanding. Like when Rufus died and they sat together in grief. It was comfort and support. And then her hand reached for his, landing atop his on his knee, her fingers sliding into the slots between his and curling into his palm. He curved his fingers down around hers and squeezed, holding on for dear life.

"He doesn't think I can do it…" He shook his head. "He's not wrong."

"He's not right either."

He turned to look at her, his brow furrowed, and searched her face. "Why do you believe in me so much?"

She tipped her head, a sad smile turning up her mouth. "I think a better question is 'why don't  _you_?'"

His throat burned then and he shook his head. "Because I've always been a fuck up… I perfected it." He ground his teeth together. "In school, when I was a kid, God, I'd try so hard. I'd spend hours sitting in the kitchen with Raisa with all these books around me. I'd try so damn hard to understand everything…

"My dad… he started his company from scratch. He built it on nothing. His dad, my grandfather, worked in a little shop… Queen's Corner Store. He sold everything; he always smelled like cheap cigars and cigarettes and he had a pocketful of penny candy that he'd sneak me all the time. He barely scraped by in life and he never complained. My dad hated it. He wanted more. So when he grew up, he made his life into everything his father's wasn't. He made billions… He did everything he could to set himself apart and he built this incredible company on hard work and late hours. And when he went to my grandfather and he offered to buy him a house or a new car or to pay off the mortgage on his little house in the Glades, my grandfather said no… He turned down my dad every time. He lived out his life just like he always did, in that house that he raised his son in, with the creaky floorboards and the draft and the broken porch swing. And he never regretted it. Not once. But my father, he never understood. He never got why everything he did never made his father proud…"

He turned to look at her, his eyes blurry with tears. "So I sat at that table and I worked and worked and I tried so hard to be who my dad was. I tried so hard to be good at everything so he'd realize I was like him, not like grandpa. And he never noticed." His breath caught and cracked. "Raisa put all my tests on the fridge, all those A's and 'good job's' and gold stars, and he was always too busy. So eventually I gave up… I stopped trying."

He let out a bitter laugh. "And you know what…? It felt good. It felt  _good_  not to try so hard and to just do what I wanted. No more studying until my brain hurt and freaking out if I didn't get the grade I wanted on a test, worried that my dad would see it and think I wasn't smart enough or good enough… I stopped trying and eventually that turned into something else. Because I was desperate, God I was so fucking desperate for him to notice me… So I partied and I ran cars into trees and I became a familiar face to SCPD and I laughed when he'd have to pick me up at the station, because  _fuck_.  _him_. Those were the only twenty minutes out of the day that he had to—he was  _forced_ to pay attention to me. And I took it. I took every damn minute of it even if it meant seeing that disappointed look on his face, that 'you fucked up and you're a failure, and what'd I ever do to deserve you?' face that he reserves just for me…"

His chin trembled, tears finally spilling over. "And then I told myself I didn't care anymore, that it wasn't about him anymore, and I could live my life however I want. I could party until I passed out and who would care?  _Nobody_. So I did. I did because I was so tired of not feeling like I mattered to anyone. I was so tired of being a screw up. I was just  _tired_. But I didn't have to feel that when I was drunk. I didn't have to feel that when I was fucking whoever came around. Because I was good enough for them. I was  _enough_ for someone. And then  _Laurel_  comes along and she thinks she can  _save_  me. She thinks…" He laughed, turning his eyes up. "She thinks somehow we're going to turn into this fairytale ending and I'm going to get it together, but she's wrong. Because I ruin everything I touch. I bring down everyone around me. And she  _lets_  me. She lets me screw up, just like my mom does. She loves me even though I hurt her over and over again, because I'm too much of a coward to tell her that I don't want to be the Moira to her Robert. I don't want to be  _hers_. I don't know how to tell her that she was one last ditch effort to be the person my dad wanted me to be. To find the right kind of girl, someone he would approve of, so we would all look good on the next holiday card…"

He shook his head. "And this is where I am. This is what all that got me. I'm crying in a park with a dog that isn't mine because my daddy doesn't love me." He laughed, but it petered out as his breath caught. "He doesn't even like me."

"Oliver…"

"Why can't I be what he wants?" he whispered.

Felicity didn't answer. Instead, she wrapped her arms around him in a hug, stroking her hand down the back of his neck soothingly. She held him close and squeezed him tight and she let him cry on her shoulder. His hands tangled in the back of her coat, her soft hair brushing against his fingers, and he pressed his face down against her. He fell apart, crying like he hadn't since he was a little boy and his father had missed his soccer game for the third time. Only then it was Raisa holding him, kissing his hair and telling him that his dad loved him, he was just busy.

Felicity didn't say that. She didn't excuse his father's behavior or promise that his dad loved him in some way. She just held him and rubbed his back and scrubbed her fingers through his hair gently. She held him until he was finished with his embarrassing display of guilt and desperation. When he loosened his grip on her, she sat back down at his side, and he rubbed at his face,

Wiping away the tears and rubbing at his eyes and nose, trying to find his dignity once more.

"Sorry," he said quietly, gruffly, his voice a little rough.

Felicity found his hand again and shook her head. "Don't be. It's okay to be vulnerable… What happened with your dad, that's hard. That's not something you just get over. And you've obviously been struggling with it for a long time. So if you ever want to talk about it, I'm here, even if you just want to vent." She looked up at him with a soft smile. "You're not a screw up, Oliver. You've made some mistakes, sure, we all have, but you're not a screw up… And personally, I think this is one business idea your dad will regret turning down. In a year or two from now, when it's topping the list of hot spots to visit in Starling City, he's going to know that. But doing things for your dad's approval, that's never going to make you happy. It might satisfy you for a little while, but he's not the person you need to make happy every day." She poked his chest. "That's you. So as much as I want your dad to realize that you're a great person who is doing awesome things, I'd much rather see you be happy with yourself and do something, like this club, because it's what  _you_ want."

He stared down at her. "Anybody ever tell you you're  _too_ well-adjusted?"

She laughed, her head falling back. "Just Kelsey."

He half-grinned. "The club is for me. I… I wanted his approval, but we're still going forward. We'll find help somewhere else…" He shook his head. "I'm probably going to be homeless and my trust fund is going to be frozen, but… I'm going to open this club, whatever it takes."

She beamed up at him and his heart did that swooping thump it always did when Felicity was happy and close and looking at him. "Good."

He nodded. "Yeah, it's going to be."

They sat there for a few minutes longer before Felicity reached into the pocket of his jacket like she knew it would be there and came up with a green ball, which she waved at Jasper. Excitedly, Jasper hopped up, tail wagging, and Felicity swung her arm back to let the ball fly.

"When she's tired, we'll take her back to the shelter, and then you and I can get dinner, all right?" Felicity looked down at him. "Consider it a 'congrats on your first business proposal' thing instead of a 'sorry that didn't turn out the way you wanted it to' thing."

He let out a faint chuckle and nodded. "Okay."

Felicity clapped as Jasper ran back to her and bent to grab up the slobbery ball.

Sitting in the grass with his knees up, Oliver rested his arms on them as he watched Felicity and Jasper play. Much of the stress from his day had eased after he finally talked about everything that had been piling up since childhood. But now, watching them, he felt the last of it ebb away. Things weren't how he wanted them to be. And he'd be happier if his dad had signed on the dotted line to finance his business, non-verbally telling his son that he believed in him. But it wasn't over. He still had options. And he had Felicity, and Jasper, and that… that made him feel really damn good, actually.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, this took a lot longer to put out than I was expecting... Sorry, everybody! I've been overwhelmed with five days of practicum overlapping with five classes and somehow trying to figure out when to write in between being desperate to sleep. I'm sure I'll get used to it and back on track for writing, but as it is right now, I'm just trying my best.
> 
> I'm really excited about the progression made in this chapter. Oliver was finally able to talk about how these issues of his manifested and how he's dealt with them. I also think it's important that it was with Felicity because he was honest about the things he's done and how he feels about himself. Like the night he got drunk and needed her help, Felicity needs to see Oliver at his worst occasionally. She needs to remember there are faults and he's made mistakes to see how he's growing. I'm also really glad that Felicity and Tommy finally met and, as you can see, Tommy approves. :)
> 
> For those of you who had thought Robert would approve of the club, things didn't go as easily as one might hope. On the bright side, this means more growth for Oliver, some baggage being unloaded, and... Let's just say that Robert knows what he's doing. ;)
> 
> Thank you all so much for your amazing and lovely and truly encouraging reviews. I really do appreciate every one of them. They are so touching and I'm so proud of this story and how much you've all enjoyed it so far. I hope this chapter also agrees with you.
> 
> Please review; they're my lifeblood!
> 
> Thank you for reading,
> 
> \- **Lee | Fina**


	7. Chapter Five

**V**.

When Oliver finished high school, he remembered thinking how cool it would be to get out on his own, find an apartment, and live up the bachelor life. But, then graduation had come and gone and getting an apartment didn't really seem necessary, not when he was in and out of colleges, returning at random to his childhood home, to what he was used to. His mother always welcomed him back with a hug and a kiss to his cheek. She would sigh of course, in that exasperated way of hers that said she was used to this but wished it would change. He got really good at pretending that little bit of disappointment in her face didn't matter. While his father was always the one Oliver was desperate to please, his mother wasn't a soft, cuddly teddy bear either. She didn't ignore him, not really, she just… didn't know what to do with him.

If he had to describe his mother's parenting skills in one word it would be 'uncertain.' She never really seemed to know what she was doing, and so it made her seem awkward with her children, especially when they were young, clawing at her legs for attention, to be held, to be kissed and whispered to and snuggled. Moira Queen wasn't made of ice, she just didn't have the same instincts that Raisa did. Oliver never questioned that his mother loved him, she just showed it in other ways, and he'd come to expect that.

It was three days after his failed attempt to get his father to invest in him as a business owner that he nearly had everything in his room packed. His mother lingered in the doorway, watching him, uncharacteristically nervous, twisting her wedding ring around her finger and shifting her feet from time to time. He imagined this was new for her. When he finished high school, he left everything just as it was. He went off to college and lived in a dorm for some time, but it never stuck. He started coming home more often than not, until one day he wasn't in college any more. In the second college, he tried out the frat life, but even that didn't work as well as some might expect. Sure, he enjoyed the parties. It was the exact type of landscape he should have fit right in at. But Tommy wasn't there. And, while Oliver was a pretty social person, especially with women, his only real friend was his best friend. He used that as an excuse when he dropped out and returned home. He always had an excuse, some flimsy, some almost legitimate, but in the end they were all just a way to skirt around what never really worked in his life.

This was different, though.

This was him taking the step he never had before.

He was cutting ties to home, packing up his safety net and moving on.

He didn't have his own apartment to go to, paid for by his trust fund or his parents. He would be staying in Tommy's spare room until he got his feet under him. It still felt like relying on someone when he shouldn't have to, but he only had so many options, and asking his dad for help was out of the question. He needed to do this on his own. Oliver needed to show his father that he wasn't the screw up he thought he was.

"I never realized just how much you had in here…" Moira finally said, stepping into the room and casting her eyes around. "The walls seem so bare."

Oliver looked over at her, his brows furrowed when he heard the slight shake in her voice. "I'll still visit, mom. I'm not leaving permanently." He frowned. "Well, I am, just not… I mean, I'll be living somewhere else, but… this will always be home."

She nodded jerkily, wrapping her arms around herself and blinking quickly as she looked around once more. "You know where you'll be staying?"

"With Tommy, for now. Until we get some money for the club and get it going, I won't really have a steady income." He shrugged, packing the few books he'd enjoyed over the years into a box sitting atop his bed. "I already talked to Raisa, about coming by on Sunday for a family dinner… She said she'd make lasagna."

"That's nice. That's… I hope you'll visit, often," Moira told him, stepping up to the edge of his bed and smoothing her hand over the blanket for something to focus on. "Oliver, I… I hope you know that you father isn't doing this to  _punish_ you. I would never want you to leave. If it were up to me, you'd always be here."

"I know, mom."

"He just…" She shook her head, swallowing thickly. "You know, when you were a little boy, you used to dress up like him… Oh, you'd pull out your best suit and you'd slick your hair back with water. You'd tell everyone to call you 'Mr. Queen' and you'd play pretend-CEO. Anybody that asked what you wanted to be, you always had the same answer… 'I want to be just like my dad when I grow up.'"

Her eyes were misty as she smiled softly, tracing a pattern on his blanket. "Even though you grew up, I always thought that would stay the same. That first day that you went with your father to work at QC, I thought, 'This is it. He'll be just like him.'" Her smile dimmed then and she shook her head. "You'd shadow him until he felt you were capable and then he'd give you a job there, something with an office and a nameplate, and everybody would know it was just a placeholder until he was ready to retire… You'd eventually get used to the hours, adapt to that life, and give up on trying to find time to go out to the clubs. You'd probably be too tired or too bogged down with paperwork to even  _attempt_ a nightlife. So you'd get used to it and, in a few years' time, you'd ask Laurel to marry you, because it made sense. And as time went on, that little boy who wore a suit too big for him would grow into it. You'd become just like your father, with a job that always demanded  _more_ ; more time, more energy, more  _you_. And you'd have a beautiful family that loved you dearly, but that you rarely saw enough. You'd get used to that too, of course, and make excuses that, in order for your family to be well taken care of, this was what you had to do to make it happen, even if all they really wanted was some of your attention and time…"

She reached up to swipe at a fallen tear then and finally looked up at him. "I want you to know, Oliver, that the only regret I have in raising you is that I never asked the most basic question of all… What do you want to be when you grow up?"

Oliver stared down at her, her words ringing loudly in his ears. He walked to her, an ache in his heart, and he took her hands into his, rubbing his thumbs over the tops affectionately. "I did want to be like him. Some days I still do. I… More than I want to  _be_  him, I want him to like me for who I am…" He shook his head. "And I know I haven't always been likeable or easy to deal with or… the best son you could've asked for. But, I'm trying… I want to be  _me_ , and I don't completely know who that is, but I know it's not the CEO of Queen Consolidated. I know it's not a 9-to-5 office job or a Fortune 500 company. Right now, I want to open a club and see if I can do any of this on my own. If I fall flat on my face, okay, then I'll just have to get up and try again with something else." He smiled at her lightly. "I don't blame you, mom, not for anything. I had to grow up sometime and, it might not be what any of us expected but… I like where it's headed so far."

She smiled gently and let out a soft sigh. Not exasperated or angry, but accepting. She gave his hands a squeeze and then pulled him in for a hug. "On the record," she said against his shoulder, "I love you for who you are, and I always will."

He swallowed tightly as a well of emotion lodged in his throat. Closing his eyes, he hugged her a little tighter. "Thank you."

"And if you  _ever_ want to come home, for  _any_ reason, the door is always open." She rubbed his back. "I'll kick your father out onto the lawn if he says different."

He chuckled under his breath. "I'll remember that."

They held onto each other for a few moments longer before finally she drew back from him and cast her eyes around. "Now, did you need any help packing? I'll admit I haven't done it for some time, but I'm sure I can figure out how."

He nodded. "Sure. You can help me clean out my closet. I didn't realize just how much clothing I had until today."

Brightening, she clapped her hands together. "Oh, that's perfect! I've been putting together a clothing drive with Meredith Chambers, you know her, her son was arrested for possession last year. Anyway, we wanted to focus a little more close to home this year. There's a homeless shelter in the Glades, it's a few blocks over from your grandfather's house, actually, and it's been asking for clothing donations for some time. It's not uncommon for them to get more women's clothing than men's, so this is great timing. We'll figure out what you don't want anymore, anything that doesn't fit, and we can have one of the staff bring it down to the homeless shelter."

While Oliver knew it was going to take a lot longer than he'd planned – especially considering he'd originally planned to throw his clothes into as many boxes as it took and put the majority of them in storage until a later date – he couldn't deny how excited she looked at taking on the mini-project with him. So, he nodded, pasting on a smile, and accepted that the rest of his day was going to be spent going through clothing with his mother. It could be worse.

"Ohhh, Oliver, look, I found a box with your baby clothes in it," his mother called from the depths of his closet. "You were so tiny…"

Scratch that. It just got worse.

* * *

"Wow," Laurel said, staring at him with wide eyes. "I—I mean, I think it's great that you're sticking to your plan and you're moving out. I'm just…  _surprised_."

Oliver frowned. "Why? You've been telling me I should move out for months now. Maybe even years."

"Yes, but you never listened to me." She gave a slightly incredulous laugh. "I suggested it to you a few times. I—I told you that we could get a place together, but you always had an excuse. It's just… I don't know, it feels like everything is happening so quickly now, and I kind of feel like I'm not a part of it."

His brow furrowed. "What do you mean?"

"I mean you had your interview with your father three days ago and this is the first I've heard anything about it. You're finally moving out, but it's with Tommy." She put her hands up then. "And you know what, that's fine. I know we've been fighting lately, especially since I wasn't as supportive as I could be, so I understand that you need your space and we're still figuring things out between us, but… Three years, Ollie. Three years I've been saying you need to be independent and move out and that we could do this together, and now that you are, it's like it has nothing to do with me. I'm not a part of it. You come to me after you've made your decisions, like you're updating me on what's happening instead of letting me be a part of everything."

He stared at a long a moment, letting what she said sink in. She wasn't wrong. He told her what was happening after the fact because he didn't remember that she would want to know or that he should talk to her about it until he'd already done it. As much as Laurel was in his life, he felt like she was on the fringes of it. It was his fault for not inviting her closer, for not confiding in her or asking for her opinion, but that didn't mean he wanted to now. He understood how she felt, he understood that she felt like he was growing up, and maybe even out of her. And the truth was, she was right.

He opened his mouth to say that. To tell her that she deserved better than him and what he offered her, because it wasn't enough and it wasn't right. It wasn't purely that Oliver was an awful person, undeserving of the perfect Laurel. It was that they were two different people who wanted different things in their lives. Maybe, at some point, he thought he wanted what she did. He thought it could work between them. He thought he could be that little boy his mom talked about, who grew into his father and married Laurel because that made sense, and they would have grown old together, becoming distant and bitter like his own parents had.

He should have said that.

He should have told her that he didn't love her anymore.

But he moved out of his parents' house today. He'd officially cut the cord and was starting out with nothing to keep him from falling and fucking up. He still had a business he needed to shop around to anybody who would listen. His life was already upside down and as much as he knew he was making it worse by being with Laurel, she just wasn't something he wanted to deal with right now.

"Tell me what's going on in your life," he suggested, leaning back into the couch. "I feel like I don't know what's going on with school or your family or anything."

And Laurel smiled, because she always did when he took an interest in her, and she snuggled up to his side, accepting what she saw as an olive branch rather than a brush off.

He listened to her catalogue her day until her voice became a faint buzz in his ears and then his mind wandered elsewhere. Like to his mother and the boxes of clothing they'd gone through that would be donated to the homeless shelter downtown. He wondered if she'd had one of the staff bring it down yet. Maybe he'd offer to do it for her tomorrow. It'd give him a chance to see her, maybe they'd get lunch, and then he could take a drive through the Glades. He hadn't been there since he was a boy and his grandfather had been alive. It might be nice. He smiled, taking a sip of his beer. Maybe he'd take Jasper for a walk through the neighborhood.

* * *

With his bank accounts froze, Oliver had very little to his name. For the time being, however, he had his car. Before going to Laurel's, his car had been stocked full of his stuff. He'd had to make two trips, one to a storage place that Tommy paid for and the second to Tommy's apartment to put everything away in the spare bedroom he was now occupying. It wasn't nearly as large as his own room had been back home, but it was comfortable and he had all of his essentials. He originally left everything to be unpacked until later, but after returning from Laurel's apartment, he decided there was no better time than the present. He didn't realize how tired he was until he'd gotten through nearly half the boxes, and then he was ready for a much-needed break. He left his new room to see what Tommy was up to and found him in the kitchen, looking through the fridge.

"Let's go over the business proposal again," Oliver suggested.

"Great." Tommy offered him a beer and sat down with him at the kitchen table. "So, I was thinking, maybe we could make a video, you know? Kind of a mock-advertisement for it. Maybe, uh, maybe Felicity could help out. You think she'd want to?"

He nodded. "Yeah. I'm sure she'd love to."

"Great." Tommy reached over and knocked the neck of his beer against Oliver's.

Oliver took a long drag from his beer and spread out the papers in front of him. "All right, how about you lead this time? Let's see if that works better…"

"Got it." Tommy stood, moving to stand as if he were facing a room full of investors and put on his show-smile.

Oliver sat back and critiqued, trying to look at it from the view of a businessman, trying to see what his father had seen, and find what made him say no.

All it did was exhaust him.

* * *

Two days after moving out, he called by the house to find out if his mother had sent the clothes off to the homeless shelter yet. She'd apparently forgotten all about it, so he asked her if she wanted to get brunch and he'd drop them off for her. Delighted, she took a town car in to meet him at a small coffee shop she swore made the best croissants she'd ever had outside of Paris. The driver put the boxes into the trunk of Oliver's car for him before finding somewhere to park while Oliver and Moira took their time catching up.

"Tell me more about this club," Moira suggested as she stirred cream into her tea. "Your father wasn't too specific and I want to know what has you so motivated."

He half-grinned at her. While he was sure he'd talked enough about the club in the last week to last a lifetime, it was different when it came to sharing it with her instead of trying to convince someone to invest in him. So he laid it all out for her, how the design was going to look, what stock costs were estimated to be, where he wanted to break ground on building the club, and how he imagined opening night to look.

"You must've spent a lot of time looking into all of this. You said you had detailed lists of what the other night clubs here in Starling were dealing with…?"

He nodded, tearing off a piece of cinnamon bun to pop into his mouth. "Yeah, Felicity actually put together information both on clubs here in Starling and the best clubs in the country." He grinned to himself, licking a smear of icing off his thumb. "She was pretty thorough. I mean, I know dad didn't go for it, but I'm pretty happy with how our presentation goes. Tommy and I spent hours going over everything, memorizing statistics and working out the best options we had in terms of who we wanted to buy from and how much we'll probably bring in each week. We might only break even for the first while, but I think, knowing what we do, we can bring in more people. Word of mouth will be our best friend. That and the curiosity for the idle rich."

He looked up when his mother hadn't answered him, only to find her looking at him with a tiny furrow between her brows.

He glanced away, frowning a little. "What?"

Shaking her head a little, Moira said, "That's the fourth time you've mentioned this Felicity and I can't find a face to put to the name. Is she someone you met in college, someone from high school…?"

"Oh, uh, no, she… She actually works at QC." He shrugged, shifting in his seat. "She's in the IT Department. She's in a cubicle right now, but I wouldn't be surprised if she was running the whole floor in a few years." He smiled then, a soft, warm feeling in his chest. "You should hear her talk about computers; she can talk your ear off for hours. And she brags,  _a lot_." He rolled his eyes affectionately. "I don't think I've ever heard anyone geek out so much and still sound so arrogant. But she has reason to be, I guess. She graduated summa cum laude from MIT, and a year early from high school, too."

"She sounds… accomplished."

"Mm-hmm." He nodded. "She is. I don't think I've ever met anyone as smart as her. She, uh… She's helped me through a lot of what's been going on. With dad and all of this business stuff. She's really…" He shook his head. "I don't know where I'd be without her."

His mother watched him, her head tipped as she took him in. "You look happy."

He grinned up at her. "I am."

"I don't just mean about everything with this club. Although, I can't remember you ever being this enthusiastic about anything before, which I'm glad to see. But what I meant was that you look very happy when you talk about this Felicity…" Her lips pursed slightly. "It was my understanding that you were still seeing Laurel."

He frowned, dropping his gaze to his coffee. Clearing his throat, he told her, "I am. Laurel and I still together."

His mother hummed as she took a sip from her tea, watching him over the rim of the cup. She placed it daintily back down on the plate and smoothed out a napkin in her lap. "My only piece of advice, Oliver…" She stared at him knowingly. "Always be honest with those you love. As soon as you start lying, it's hard to stop."

He listened, giving a short nod a moment later.

She smiled then. "Now, why don't we head down to the shelter? I'm eager to drop everything off." She shook her head. "I told Meredith that we had three boxes of clothing and she admitted she's only gathered one. I don't want to say I gloated, but…" She smirked. "I'd be lying if I said I didn't."

Oliver chuckled, shaking his head.

When they finished their meal, he stood, holding his mother's jacket up for her to slip her arms into before bending to kiss her cheek. She patted his shoulder and joined him outside, climbing into the passenger seat of his car and directing him toward the shelter. She was oddly familiar with the Glades for someone who always had a driver take her everywhere. But then, his mother had always been more observant than most might give her credit for.

* * *

When Oliver finally got a chance to talk to Felicity about Tommy's commercial idea, it had to be curbed for a few days. Felicity was down for the count; a flu was going around and she was the unfortunate person to come down with it. While Tommy swore off going anywhere near her unless he had on a doctor's mask, and made the sign of the cross on his chest when Oliver so much as brought it up, Oliver decided to bite the bullet. He borrowed some cash off of Tommy and hit the pharmacy, filling a basket with anything that had cold/flu written on it. He bought orange juice, bottled water, tea, Vapo-rub, cough syrup, nasal spray, and cough drops. He also called Raisa and asked her for a favor before stopping by the manor to pick up the chicken noodle soup she used to make for him when he was a kid.

Then he showed up at Felicity's apartment, unannounced, and knocked at her door.

Hair in disarray and a blanket wrapped around her shoulders, she opened the door a crack to see him standing there. She had a bright red nose and bags under her eyes, but when she stuck her bottom lip out, looking sad and sick, he couldn't help but think she was ridiculously adorable. She swung the door open wide to invite him in and then shuffled back to her couch, curling up on it and pulling her blanket over her head. She was wearing mismatched fuzzy, wool socks; that was the only thing he could see that wasn't covered in her thick, blue blanket.

Oliver smiled to himself as he walked into her kitchen to warm up her soup and get her tea ready. While her soup simmered on the stove and a kettle warmed up water, he found her in the living room, groaning, and he dropped the bag down on the table for her to see.

Lifting the blanket from her face, she peeked out curiously, reaching an arm out toward the bag, her fingers snagging on the handle of the bag and tugging it closer. Her orange nail polish was chipped, a sign that she really must be feeling terrible since she took care of her brightly colored nails religiously. She smiled as she set eyes on cherry cough drops and cough syrup. "You remembered I liked cherry…"

"I got lemon tea, too," he told her, raising a brow down at her as she tipped her head to the side to look up at him.

"If I didn't think it would make you terribly sick, I might kiss you for this."

His mouth twitched. "It's the thought that counts."

She tried to chuckle but broke down on a coughing fit. Her body curled up into itself as she struggled to breath, her hand pressed to her mouth and her face turning red with the strength of her coughing.

Oliver cringed, digging out a bottle of water from the bag, he unscrewed the top and knelt beside her, rubbing her back and passing her the bottle.

She guzzled back a long swig and licked her lips, panting a little as she tried to catch her breath.

He smoothed her hair back from her face, tucking it behind her ear, and frowned worriedly.

"S'okay," she murmured, leaning back on the couch. "Just a flu…" She waved a dismissive hand. "You're just lucky you missed the throwing-up stage…  _Not_ pretty."

He half-smiled, standing when he heard the whistle of the kettle. He left to prepare her tea, giving her soup a stir while he was there. When he returned, she was sitting up, sucking on a cough drop and still wrapped in her blanket, her feet pulled up and tucked under her. She let the blanket fall back a little as he handed over her cup of tea. She smiled, a bright red cough drop stuck between her teeth, and held the tea close, cupping her hands around it to let the warmth sink into her skin. She breathed in, smelling her tea appreciatively. He reached around her to pull the blanket up to her shoulders before he walked back to the kitchen to dish out her soup.

Felicity traded out her cough drop for her tea and happily sipped away at it, humming contently as she leaned back against her couch.

"Hungry?"

Her nose wrinkled. "Very. I just hope the throw-up stage isn't planning on an encore."

He placed the bowl down on the table. "Raisa made this. I might be biased, but it's the best chicken noodle soup ever made."

"Ever, huh?" She smiled at him and leaned over to look at the bowl. "Looks delicious."

"Tastes better." He dragged her armchair closer and leaned forward, elbows on his knees. "You want some help?"

"Are you planning on doing the airplane?" she wondered, arching an eyebrow at him.

"I can if you want me to. I'm an expert airplane feeder thanks to taking care of Thea when she was a baby."

"I think I can manage." She placed her tea back on the table and picked up her bowl of soup, sinking the spoon in deep and scooping out a hearty bite. "You want a bite before I get all my sick germs on it?" she wondered.

He nodded, leaning over, and before he could even reach for the spoon, she started making the airplane motion at him. "Mayday, mayday, we're having rotor issues," she said dramatically.

He laughed, rolling his eyes.

"Open wide, it's coming in for a crash landing…" She whistled, twisting her arm around. "Tell my children, I loved them."

Despite her overdramatic spiel, she tucked the spoon between his lips lightly and pulled it free, tipped upward to spill the soup onto his tongue. He caught a dribble of broth with a swipe of his tongue.

Felicity's cheeks were a little brighter with color, but he didn't think that was the flu. She smiled at him as she sunk the spoon back into her soup and brought a bite up to her own mouth. She gave a long, appreciative moan then. "Oh my God… That is  _good_ …"

He nodded. "I'll pass it on to Raisa."

She nodded, pointing the spoon at him before digging out another bite. "I think this is the best soup I've ever had. And I don't even really like soup. I mean, sometimes you get those cravings, right? I think soup's one of those things for me. I can go months without soup and then one day—" She snapped her fingers. "Soup and a sandwich, that's the only thing I want. And when I'm sick, of course. I mean, I usually just get Campbell's and suffer the MSG overload, but this…  _This_ is totally better."

"You must be feeling better if you're rambling," he mentioned, sitting back in the armchair.

She stuck her tongue out at him. "You're lucky I like you, and that you brought me all of this awesome anti-flu stuff."

"I am that," he agreed, crossing his arms loosely over his chest. "You're feeling better though?"

She shrugged. "I think I'll probably take another day off from work to recoup, but I'm pretty sure I'll pull through."

"Glad to hear it."

"Mm-hmm." She stirred her soup. "You and Kelsey both. She was here all day yesterday, holding my hair while I got nice and familiar with the porcelain Gods. You just missed her actually; she stayed over to give me sick cuddles. I'm pretty sure that's just her excuse to cuddle when she's sober, but…" She shrugged. "I'm not complaining. It feels nice to be held when you feel like death warmed over."

"I missed out on cuddles again?" Oliver shook his head. "I think I'm getting the raw end of this friendship deal."

Felicity smiled. "Yeah, well, take it up with Kelsey. She's a cuddle-hog."

"Maybe Jennifer and I can petition for more equality," he decided.

She laughed softly, ducking her head down as she sipped some of the broth from her bowl, tipping it up to slurp from the edge. She caught a piece of carrot with her teeth and chewed it. "When I'm better, Kelsey wants to go out dancing. Since Jenn's been so busy lately, Kelsey's going around her and asking Marissa to match up our schedules for a girl's night."

He drummed his hands on the arms of the chair. "Yet another thing I can't he involved in…" He shook his head. "I think Tommy and I will have to have a boy's night. Maybe we'll casually and unexpectedly bump into you guys."

"I'd like that."

"Yeah?"

She nodded. "Yeah. You'll get a chance to meet my friends while fully-dressed, and Marissa, who you haven't met yet."

He laughed. "How terrible was my first impression exactly?"

"I wouldn't categorize it as terrible," she assured. "Kelsey counts her best memories as the ones with a half or fully naked man in them."

He shook his head, grinning. "I don't think that's the impression I was really hoping for."

"No?" She raised an eyebrow. "What were you hoping for?"

He shrugged. "Charming, funny, good guy, something like that."

"I already told them you were all those things, but if you feel like proving it to them, I'll let you know when we're having our girl's night and you can 'casually, unexpectedly' show up as suggested." She shook her head. "I'm warning you now, though, becoming friends with Kelsey means you'll probably be talked into a permanent VIP spot for her on the list when Sapphire opens."

"Done," he agreed. "And Jenn too, if she wants it."

Felicity smiled at him. "Who knew me being sick would make you so accommodating?"

"Maybe I just really want your friends to like me."

She stared at him a moment, looking thoughtful. He waited for her to ask the obvious question:  _Why would you want to do that?_ So he could give the obvious answer:  _Because if they like me, I have a better chance with you_. But Felicity rarely did what he expected of her, so instead she said, "You're very likeable, and they're good people; it's a win/win."

Before he could reply, she broke down into a sneezing fit.

Oliver grabbed up the near-empty bowl of soup and put it on the table before he dug out the Kleenex box from the bag and presented it to her.

When she was done sneezing, he helped her lay back on the couch and tucked the blanket in around her. He offered her the half-eaten cough drop she'd put back on the wrapper to sip her tea and she peeled it off to stick back in her mouth. While she was tired, she admitted she'd been sleeping all day and didn't want to nap, so Oliver put on a movie and took a seat on the other end of the couch. She stretched her feet out until they touched his leg and then tucked her toes under his thigh to keep them warm. He smiled to himself, biting his lips in amusement as he felt her toes wiggle under him.

"Can I ask about the socks?" he wondered.

"Hm?" She looked away from the TV screen back to him. "Oh, I lost the matching sock for both of them, but it gets cold in here and they're my warmest, comfiest socks, so I just wear them together." She shrugged, her eyes moving back to the TV.

She was watching a Disney movie; he couldn't remember the name, he wasn't even really following it, but when she laughed at something, he smiled. Halfway through the movie, she was struggling to stay awake. Though she fought it, he watched her finally succumb, drifting off into an afternoon nap. He finished out the movie, amused when she sleepily stuck her feet into his lap, one of her socks slipping off her foot while the other was stretched high up her calf. He readjusted the low-slung sock and smiled down at her feet, tucking her blanket in around her ankles.

Crossing his arms over his chest, he relaxed into the couch and watched the movie play on through half-open eyes, until eventually he too fell asleep.

When he woke up, she was coughing, and Oliver sprung up, blinking rapidly. He rubbed her back as he reached for the bottle of water for her to sip at. When she was finally sure she was done coughing, she leaned back on the couch. Oliver unscrewed the cap off the cough syrup and filled it before holding it for her to take. She knocked it back quickly and wrinkled her nose, giving her head a shake and sticking out her tongue.

"It always tastes better in my memory," she told him, her voice a little hoarse.

He half-smiled at her. "You're okay?"

She sighed, hugging her blanket around a little tighter. "I hate being sick."

"I don't think anyone really enjoys it," he mused.

She harrumphed before sliding sideways to rest her head on the arm of her couch. "Tell me about the commercial you and Tommy wanted to put together," she told him.

"We can talk about it later," he offered, scooping up her tea cup, ready to make her another to help soothe her throat.

She shook her head. "You were excited on the phone. At least it sounded like you were; I didn't hear much after I nearly coughed up a lung mid-conversation."

His mouth twitched in amusement. "Tommy thinks shooting an ad for the club might make it seem more real. Something short and simple, just us bringing in business with what little celebrity we have."

She hummed. "That could work."

"Any edge we can bring to the presentation will help. I was hoping you might know how we could do it. You're the one with all the computer finesse. I wasn't sure if there was a way we could do it that wouldn't cost us too much money in production costs."

She nodded. "Yeah, I think I can help with that. Let me call a few people, see if I can call in a favor."

"You don't have to." He shook his head. "You're sick, and you've already done more than enough to help me out."

Smiling tiredly, she looked over at him. "There isn't a limit to helping someone. Besides, I want to. It's not like I'll ever need to make a commercial for anything myself, might as well put the favor to good use."

"If you're sure…"

"Oliver, you're my friend. You just risked your health to help me through the flu. I think I can talk to a friend about helping put together a commercial for your club." She shrugged. "Just say 'thank you, Felicity.'"

He smiled down at her, nodding. "Thank you, Felicity."

"Good." She let out a sigh then. "I wish there was a fast-forward button so I could get to the part where I wasn't sick."

He did too. But he thought if he had a fast-forward button, he might just skip through all the hard, complicated stuff until he was at the end. Just before the credits, when the 'happily ever after' part wrapped everything up. He'd be standing in front of his club, a grinning, accomplished Tommy on one side, and a proud Felicity on the other. And then Jasper, sitting pretty in front of him. And maybe his family, his father looking proud and his mother encouraging, and an enthusiastic Thea asking if she could dance too. He'd be happy with that.

Felicity sneezed again, shaking from the force of it, and he snapped back to reality.

There was no fast-forward button. Life moved at the pace it always had and always would. It'd be hard and he'd have to face more complications than he wanted to, but it would be worth it. He made his way to the kitchen to make her a cup of tea and when he returned, she was sitting up, curled in a ball in the corner of the couch. He held her tea out for her and backed the movie up to the part right before she fell asleep. She smiled over at him and sipped at her tea before moving over to rest her head on his shoulder as she watched the rest of her movie.

It wasn't perfect, it wasn't even technically the cuddle he wanted, but it was enough. Because one day, even if it took a really long time, they were going to get to where he wanted them. For the first time in his life, he thought maybe 'happily ever after' wasn't impossible.

* * *

Oliver found a routine pretty quickly.

In the mornings, he took Jasper out for a jog and played fetch in the park. After dropping her off at the shelter, he returned to Tommy's apartment for them to go over the business proposal to work out any kinks. In the afternoon, at least three times a week, he found himself visiting the homeless shelter in the Glades. Sometime he helped with laundry or food prep or just cleaning up and other days he made coffee and handed out sandwiches. He liked it there. He liked feeling like he was helping in some small way. In the evenings, depending on the day, he split his time between visiting Thea and his parents, checking in with Laurel, and meeting up with Felicity. Twice a week we stopped by his parents' house for a family dinner, every Sunday and Thursday night. Depending on Laurel's school schedule, he dropped by her place a couple nights a week for them to catch up over take-out and relieve stress. And finally, every other night he was with Felicity. When she recovered from her cold, she got a hold of her friend to set things up with the commercial. Unfortunately, her friend was out of the country for the next few weeks, so all they could do was wait. Oliver used the time to prep.

Felicity smiled from her seat on her couch, an excited Jasper sitting on the couch beside her, leaning against her side.

"Wait, wait, that wasn't how it started." Oliver sighed, waving his hands. "This would be easier if Tommy was here. I keep waiting for him to pick up where I left off."

"It's cute how you guys finish each other's sentences," Felicity teased.

He glared at her, but there was no heat to it. "We're still figuring out who's going to open. I think Tommy's better at that stuff." He paced back and forth, his hands on his hips. "He's always been good with stuff like that. In high school, I always made sure to partner with him. He always got the class going with a joke or something."

Felicity smiled lightly. "He's more of a show-man than you?"

Oliver nodded. "But is that what this needs? Should we be toning it down?" he wondered. "We have a meeting with Tommy's dad, and he's never really… He can be really abrupt. And Tommy panics around him. He can't focus. He's like…" He snorted. "Me, around my dad."

"Maybe that's why he  _should_ lead into it," Felicity suggested.

Oliver looked back at her, brow furrowed.

"You got to face your demons with your dad, even if it didn't pan out the way you wanted. Maybe Tommy needs to do the same. I know it sucks getting rejected and I'm not saying Mr. Merlyn definitely will. But maybe he needs to do this to show his dad that he cares, just like you did. If he's struggling with it as much as you are, then he deserves the same chance, right?"

He stared at her a long moment before nodding. "You're right."

Her mouth curled up on one side. "I try."

"Careful," he teased, "your modesty is showing."

Felicity rolled her eyes and then turned to Jasper. "What do you think, huh? Do I need to be more humble?"

Jasper yapped at her, excited that she was being paid attention to, and turned herself over onto her back, her head resting in Felicity's lap. She panted cheerfully, wiggling her head around and looking up at Felicity hopefully.

"Well, I don't know about you, but I think that was clearly a 'no, Felicity, you have every right to boast.'" She rubbed a hand down Jasper's chest. "Thanks, Jasper. I completely agree."

Laughing, Oliver walked over to sit down on the couch, rubbing Jasper's belly and shaking his head. "Your ability to read her is astonishing."

Felicity grinned at him, readjusting her glasses. "It's a gift."

Oliver clapped his hands then and Jasper turned back over, looking at him expectantly. "Who wants to go to the park?" he asked.

Scrambling off the couch, she rushed toward the door, her tail wagging eagerly as she nudged his jacket on the coat rack, sniffing for the leash in his pocket, alongside the treat he kept there, the ball in his other pocket. He was obviously getting predictable.

"Coming?" he asked, looking down at Felicity.

"Sure," she agreed, standing from the couch and joining him by the door to slip on her flats.

Oliver took her jacket from the rack and held it up for her to slip her arms into. He tugged her hair free while she buttoned the front and turned to face him when he pulled his own jacket on. She pulled the leash out from his pocket and knelt to clip it on Jasper's collar before standing and passing him the handle. It wasn't until they were standing in the elevator that he realized just how domestic and familiar they'd become with each other. He couldn't stop grinning the rest of the ride down.

* * *

Meeting with Malcolm Merlyn felt almost as daunting as it had when he'd had to sell the club idea to his own dad, and subsequently failed.

For as long as Oliver had known Tommy, he'd always thought his father was intimidating. Not in the same way his own father was, but in a way that made his skin crawl. Maybe it had something to do with being completely confused why anybody wouldn't think Tommy was pretty much the greatest guy to ever live, loyalty and all that, but there was something about Malcolm that always set Oliver's teeth on edge.

The presentation went off without a hitch. They didn't stumble, stutter, or oversell themselves. All of their practicing had paid off, Oliver thought, because there was no way they could present the club any better than they just had. But, as much as he felt like they'd just explained the club to a degree that anybody would be hard-pressed to say no to, Malcolm Merlyn looked unmoved.

Much like Robert had, he asked if he could have a moment to speak to his son privately. Oliver knew then and there that it hadn't worked.

As he sat in the hallway waiting for Tommy, he dug his phone out and called Felicity.

"On a scale of one to ten, how incredibly did you do? One being mildly awesome and ten being cherry cheesecake."

Oliver's mouth twitched up in a faint smile despite the disappointment he knew was coming. "What if I didn't like cherry cheesecake?"

"Well, then I'm afraid I'd have to question our entire friendship and the very foundation it was built on."

He chuckled under his breath, his head falling back. "Sadly, because I do like cheesecake, it felt like a ten that somehow became a negative-five…"

"Oh no… What happened?"

He closed his eyes, shaking his head. "We sold it. We sold the idea, but he just… He wasn't interested. I could feel it the whole way through. He was just waiting for us to stop talking. But I thought—I  _hoped—_ that if we just kept talking, he'd come around."

"But he didn't."

Oliver gritted his teeth. "No."

"It's okay," she reassured. "I know it sucks and you guys tried really, really hard, but… It's going to be okay. This only one set back. You don't need Mr. Merlyn's help. There other options, right?"

He appreciated her encouragement, he did, but he wasn't sure he was ready to feel it yet. "You remember when you said we'd probably get rejected a lot?"

"Yeah."

"I suck at rejection." A muscle in his cheek twitched. "I mean, I  _really_ suck at rejection. Go and get blackout drunk suck."

"Well, if you do, you have my number and my couch is still available."

He sighed softly, relief flooding through him. "I don't want to do that again. I don't want to be the screw up you scrape off the sidewalk and drag home. I just… I want to stop being rejected."

"The world's full of rejection, Oliver. Believe it or not, I've been rejected a time or two myself. And it sucks, it does, but just because two people say no doesn't mean that your idea, your club, isn't worth it. You've worked too hard, you and Tommy both, to give up now. If you want this, if you  _really_ want to do this, then you get up and you try again. Dust the dirt off, wipe away the tears, get back in the game, that's what my dad always says."

"You don't strike me as someone who played a lot of sports as a kid..."

"Oh, I wasn't. He was talking about the kids that bullied me in grade school. It was metaphor, I guess, for not letting those things stop me from being who I was and facing the people who thought I couldn't do it or wouldn't go anywhere in life. And you know what? He was right… Maybe I am arrogant about it, maybe I boast too much, but that's how I remind myself that I worked my ass off to get into MIT and graduate at the top of my class. That's how I showed those kids who used to make fun of me that being smart wasn't a bad thing. It was my ticket to doing something I loved, to having a job I  _wanted_."

Oliver nodded, imagining the spitfire that was Felicity Smoak getting up and facing those bullies every day, with her head held high and her chin up. He imagined her graduating early and going to MIT and silently rubbing it in the faces of everyone who doubted her. He imagined her getting a job at QC and happily telling anyone who would listen, all the while patting her own back. And she deserved to.

"So get up, Oliver. Dust off the dirt, wipe away the tears, get back in the game. 'Cause one day, you're going to be standing in front of Sapphire, the most successful club in Starling, and both your dad and Tommy's will have to eat that rejection."

Oliver smiled slowly. "I think you have a bit of a vengeful streak, Smoak."

"One I'm extremely proud of."

He chuckled low under his breath, but before he could answer, the door nearest him was opening and an upset Tommy was walking out. His eyes were red and his mouth barely managed a smile. "We can go," he told Oliver before walking ahead.

Oliver sighed. "I have to go. Tommy's not…"

"It's okay. I understand."

"Thanks. I'll call you later."

"Sure."

After hanging up, Oliver hurried after Tommy, grabbing up his briefcase as he chased him down. He knew Tommy didn't want to talk about it, and probably wouldn't until they were a little drunk, so he kept pace with him silently, offering him quiet support. As they stood in the elevator, descending to the main floor, he pretended he hadn't noticed Tommy swiping a tear away, because that's what they did. When Tommy wanted to talk, Oliver would listen, until then, he would wait. And after he would tell him what Felicity had told him.

_Get up. Dust yourself off. Wipe away the tears. Get back into the game._

And they would.

* * *

It was after hours and most of the employees had gone home for the day. Robert had waved his secretary off when the clock struck six. He still had some paperwork he needed to go over before he'd have a chance to get home, not that he was looking particularly forward to that in any case. Moira had been colder to him, more than usual anyway. He wasn't unfamiliar with his wife's exasperation with him. It had built up over so long a period of time that now it was just a given. Oh, he loved his wife, as any man would the woman who had given him two children. But he wasn't in love with her, and hadn't been for some time. Maybe in the beginning he was. Back when he'd left behind the dirt poor life his father had provided him and had built a successful career. Back when he could impress Moira with the upsides to the life he lived. She'd long become used to their upper-class world, however. It was her playground to rule while he simply maintained it enough for her to continue to reign as queen.

Was he a bitter man? Sometimes. He'd worked hard all of his life and the only thing he had to show for it was a full bank account. Sure, he had his family, but there were days that he wondered if he'd ever really grown to know them at all. Sometimes he woke up, turned over, and saw a stranger beside him. Had so much time passed that his wife had changed so completely? Moira was still a beautiful woman, but not the same as she'd been when he married her. Of course, he wasn't the same young man she'd married either. But it was a jarring feeling, to witness just how much time had truly passed while he was sitting in an office.

He regretted that some days. Regretted how familiar he was with the layout of his office that he could suddenly find himself blind and still know exactly where everything was. But bring him to his house and he wouldn't have the faintest clue where he was going. One might say that was an issue of size, Queen Manor being far larger than his office. But Robert didn't consider his house 'home.' He was more at ease in the comfort of his office, pacing the length of it as he went over business proposals and talked shop with his investors. He was a man who lived in a glass office, overlooking the city that he'd built his livelihood off of.

When Queen Consolidated was first built, he had a clear view of the Glades. He could see the exact spot that his father's house was. With some imagination, if he squinted, he could see his mother's garden, tended to by his father long after she'd passed. Robert didn't have a green thumb. He couldn't grow anything without killing it. But he remembered sitting outside, staring at her garden, watching life peek out from the dirt. He remembered watching her, with her overlarge, floppy hat to keep the sun off her face, digging in the dirt with her floral gardening gloves. And she would smile back at him, "Come here, Robbie. Come help momma." But he never would, afraid that he would ruin the beautiful things she did. And she would kiss his forehead as she left her garden. "My beautiful boy, you couldn't hurt a fly." His mother, for all that she was the most beautiful soul he had ever known, was wrong about him. Oh, he could hurt a fly. He could hurt more than a fly.

Sometimes he wondered if her death was the catalyst for the man he became. Things were better when she was alive. He couldn't accept them when his mother was still there. But when she passed away, that all changed. He no longer enjoyed the simple life his parents could offer. He couldn't stand the house they lived in, with the draft that always made his mother shiver, muttering that it would be the death of her one day. He hated the squeaky stair on the porch and the swing that always creaked ominously, waiting to finally give up. He hated how his father could barely scrape up enough money to pay for the bills. He hated cheap clothes and cheaper food and the way the other kids looked down on him at school. He hated how his father couldn't sew like his mother had, so his clothes went on untended to, with tears and stains that never came out. He hated all of it. He hated that his mother died and his father lived and that the world kept going.

When he was fifteen years old, he told his father he never wanted to be like him, he never wanted to have his life. He quit working at Queen's Corner Store and he never looked back. He went home and he focused on his homework, promising himself that he would make himself into a better man than his father ever was. He ignored the quiet knock at his bedroom door, his father asking to come in, to talk to him. He ignored three years of that same knock, of his father always reaching out, trying to make it better. When he was eighteen, Robert got a scholarship to Harvard and studied business. After that, it was determination and sleepless nights and constantly doing everything he could to get his business off the ground.

Queen Consolidated was his greatest accomplishment, and also his greatest downfall.

He put everything into his company; sweat, blood, tears and time.  _Everything_. And in the end, he had very little to give anybody else.

He met Moira after he became successful. She came from a comfortable family, living far enough away from the Glades that the poverty there never touched her. She was enamored with him, with how he doted on her with gifts and expensive dates. She was the kind of woman a man like him  _should_  marry. Beautiful, sophisticated, smart. His mother was those things too, only she didn't have the beautiful clothes or the expensive house, not like she deserved. If she were still alive, he knew he would have given her anything she wanted. Instead he gave it to Moira. And she gave him two beautiful children. However, having a company as he did, being the CEO that he was, dedicating himself from the moment he decided to be better than his father, it all meant that sacrifices had to be made. He sacrificed being a father and husband to be a businessman.

The first time Oliver got into trouble, he was thirteen. He'd been caught smoking in the bathroom; Robert wrote it off as experimentation. Oliver was growing up, he was learning, what was one cigarette? But it escalated. Smoking turning into drinking turning into fighting turned into sneaking out turned into sleeping with every beautiful girl who smiled at him turned into drunk driving turned into multiple arrests turned into paparazzi turned into peeing on a cop car, and on and on and on. Robert thought he'd raised a spoilt brat for a son. He could just imagine what his father would say:  _Maybe if you spent a little more time with that boy, he'd stop looking for attention somewhere else_. And he wasn't wrong. Robert hated that his old man was never wrong. But he didn't listen; God, he never listened. So Oliver continued on his destructive path, a vicious cycle of screwing up and giving up and apologizing just to avoid the lecture. Robert let him. He let him get away with it for so long until finally he had enough and he put his foot down. Shape up or ship out.

Oliver surprised him when he actually started showing up to QC on time, shadowing him every day, putting in the hours needed and keeping up appearances as expected.

But then something else happened.

For the life of him, Robert couldn't figure out what Felicity Smoak saw in his son. Oh, Oliver was a good looking man, and he could be charming when he wanted to. But Miss Smoak was an MIT graduate; she was educated, possibly one of the smartest employees in his company, so he couldn't imagine what she and his son had in common. But there she was, sitting beside him every day during Oliver's lunch break. He  _rushed_ to meet her, lingering by her cubicle as soon as the time came to leave. Robert had never seen him so attentive to, well,  _anyone_. Oliver had always appreciate immediate gratification over patience and effort. So far as Robert could tell, they weren't in a romantic relationship, but if he was reading his son right, Oliver wanted to be.

He should have expected that Oliver wouldn't last in his world. He wasn't built for it. What he hadn't expected was that Oliver had a plan for something else.  _Sapphire_. His own nightclub, as it were. Robert's first instinct was to balk at the idea, but then Oliver and Tommy were laying out a very detailed plan for exactly what would go into Sapphire. They had stats on the other clubs in the area, graphs on what they expected to spend each week and what they estimated they'd be bringing in. They had blueprints for the club, a location picked out that would be perfect for what they were planning. On paper, it all looked perfect. If this were anyone but his son, he would've signed on, impressed both with the presentation and them. But it  _was_ his son. A son who he'd been teaching to become his protégé, who he'd thought was finally taking everything seriously.

He realized part way through that, in fact, Oliver  _was_ taking something seriously; it just wasn't his father's company.

Oliver wanted the club. Robert recognized the desperation in Oliver's eyes that he'd once seen in his own when he'd been so eager to get out of his father's house and make something of himself. Oliver was finally looking toward his future. He was planning for it and he wouldn't let anything get in his way. But Robert wondered if he was as much like him as he saw in that moment.

He rejected the club for two reasons.

One, Oliver needed to do this without him if he was ever going to be proud of what he'd done. He needed to fund this project without the help of his father so he could see just how much of an accomplishment it really was.

And two, he owed it to Oliver to stop picking him up when he fell. If he was ever going to get his feet under him, Robert needed to stop being the hand that helped him up.

Which is exactly why he called his old friend Malcolm up and asked him to do the same when they came to him. When Tommy and Oliver started their business, it wouldn't be with their father's financing. They would have to work for it, they'd have to shop it around and prove just how much they really wanted it. It would be easy for them to come home with their hands out, asking their dads to take pity and let them back in. But it would be all the more rewarding to see them finally grow up and take care of themselves.

He was just hanging up with Malcolm when he noticed her pacing outside of his office. She was wringing her hands, chewing her lip, moving to and fro frantically. Her ponytail swung at her back, swishing almost violently with the way she was moving. He hit the button on his speaker, the one that connected with his assistant's phone, and said, "Is there something I can help you with, Miss Smoak?"

Her head raised abruptly, eyes landing on the phone before she turned to look at him through the glass walls of his office. She gave him an awkward smile and raised a hand in a tiny wave. "Oh, uh, it can wait, actually. Yeah, now that I think about it—"

"Come into my office, please," he ordered.

Her shoulders sagged slightly before she pulled the door open and stepped inside. She shifted on her feet for a moment before raising her chin and walking toward him. He remembered now, what he'd liked about her when he'd first interviewed her for a job in the IT Department. Gumption. She had so much of it. He hadn't realized that might translate outside of her job, too, transferring itself onto his son, giving him what he needed to get traction in his life.

"What can I do for you, Miss Smoak?" he wondered.

"I'd like to preface this conversation with the fact that I'm off the clock and therefore anything I say here, I  _hope_ , won't be held against me as an employee."

Laying the pen he'd previously been using to write with down on the desk, he clasped his hands together and looked up, pinning her with a stare. "Am I to assume then that this conversation has nothing to do with work?"

"It has to do with your son, Oliver." She frowned. "Obviously. Because you only have one son. Well, as far as I know. Oh my God, not that I'm implying you have illegitimate children in the world. Or that it'd be wrong if you did. I have no right to judge. Your personal life is completely your own. And I'm going to stop this incredibly embarrassing and slightly intrusive ramble in 3… 2… 1."

Robert raised an eyebrow. "You wanted to speak to me about Oliver? Who, for the record, is my only son."

"Right, um…" She swung her arms behind her before walking forward. "He doesn't know I'm here. He didn't ask me to do this. In fact, I don't think he'd really appreciate what I'm about to say. But I'm going to do it anyway, because it needs to be said and you need to hear it and Oliver deserves for you to hear it and he probably won't ever say it. So yes, it's definitely crossing a line and I'm sure, if or when you tell him, he'll be upset with me, which I will deal with when the time comes. But for right now, I just… need to say this, so…"

Taking a deep breath, she raised her chin and looked him in the eye, "Your son is a good man. He's made mistakes, a lot of them, not the least of which was urinating on a police car not so long ago. And while I haven't known him anywhere as long as you have, I do know him now, so when I say this, I'm talking about who he is now. Not the boy he was or the man you think he is or the person the tabloids make him out to be." She bit her lip for a moment before shaking her head. "Oliver is a _really_ good man. He is smart and funny and probably too charming for his own good. He's loyal and kind and, for the lucky few who get to be his friend, he is giving and warm. And I know that he's done things, things that he regrets, and things that might make him out to be someone that you can't rely on, but if you could see him the way  _I_  do…"

She stepped forward, until she was just a few inches from his desk. "Every day, he wakes up at five in the morning so that he can go down to the dog shelter as soon as it opens and he takes one of the dogs there for a run. Her name is Jasper and Oliver dotes on her like no one else…" She smiled softly. "After work, he goes and picks her up to take her for another walk, because he hates that she's cooped up inside all day… The first time I saw him play fetch, I've never seen someone light up like that. He was so  _proud_ of himself for making this dog happy, for being able to  _give_  him something… A week ago, I was so sick I could barely function, and he spent the whole day with me, making me tea and watching Disney movies and feeding me cough syrup. He even painted my nails for me because he knows how much I hate it when they chip… And the week before that, he took clothes to the homeless shelter and while he was there, he offered to take help out any time they need. He's there three days a week!"

She sighed then. "I—I'm not saying this because I think Oliver is a saint. Because he's not. He has flaws and he makes mistakes and sometimes he gets so beaten down that he drinks himself into oblivion. And sometimes he drunkenly confesses that his parents are disappointed in him and he'll never amount to anything. And other time he's sober when he breaks down over being rejected by his father over something he's put his entire heart into."

She swallowed thickly. "Mr. Queen, I can't tell you what to do. I can't ask you to reconsider with Oliver, and I'm not sure if that's even the right thing to do. Maybe he does need to find investors elsewhere and maybe not having you invest in him is best for him. But what I do know is that you might think you're doing right by your son, you might still see him as who he was. Or maybe you never really saw him at all, because that's what he thinks. He thinks he's been trying so hard since he was just a little boy to get any scrap of your respect and he's never once earned it. And maybe this will change that. Maybe him getting this club going without you will make you respect him, I don't know. I know that Oliver is never going to respect himself until he stops trying to live up to your standards and I know he's trying really,  _really_ hard to do that now. And I know that he will… He'll open Sapphire and he'll make a life for himself, with or without you."

She smiled faintly. "The reason I'm here isn't to make you feel bad or to tell you that you were a terrible parent. It's to ask that you just look at your son, just a little longer than maybe you usually do, and just try and see  _him_. Not the little boy who idolized you or the teenager who rebelled or the adult who didn't want to have anything to do with responsibility. Just look at him now, look at Oliver as he is right now. And maybe then you'll realize that he is trying really hard and he is terrified of failing and you don't have to support him financially, you don't have to give him one dime, but if you could just  _tell_ him that you notice how hard he's working, I think that would go a long way."

With a nod, she said, "So that's it. That's all I wanted you to know."

Robert stared at her a long moment, the silence in the room thick with tension. "Thank you, Miss Smoak."

Folding her lips, she nodded quickly. "Thank  _you_  for speaking with me." She turned on her heel then and walked toward the door.

"Miss Smoak?"

She paused, turning back to him curiously.

"Thank you… for being there for my son. I may not say it, but I have noticed how far he's come."

"I didn't do anything." She pulled the door open then. "He's a lot stronger than you think he is. A better man than anybody gives him credit for." With that, she left, letting the door close behind her as she walked away.

Robert stared at the empty doorway, her words still ringing in his ears.

He half-smiled to himself as he sat back. Oh, much of what she'd said stung. There were a few jabs at him in there, though he wasn't sure that it was completely on purpose. Oliver had the keen ability to look like nothing ever hurt him, but it was that ability that kept anyone else from knowing just how much the neglect of his parents had truly shaped him. Robert had known all along that he hadn't given his son his due. He'd avoided the responsibilities of a father in favor of those of a CEO. And because of that, his son was not as well-rounded as he could be. But it looked like that was changing. He was growing, learning how to move in the world. It wouldn't be easy, as Robert well knew, but Miss Smoak was right. Oliver was strong, he was stubborn, and when he set his mind to something, he didn't give up. He hoped this was one of those times. He hoped Oliver kept trying, kept working at getting his club off the ground.

For now, Robert would see what would happen, and he would mull over what Felicity had brought to his attention. There was some truths there that he'd spent too long ignoring. Perhaps now it was time to take a good hard look at himself, and just how much he'd shaped his son's past behaviors. It wouldn't be a pretty slog through his memory, but it would be necessary. And maybe, if life was so willing, he might just get a chance to make it up to his boy. Was it really so late to make amends? He'd have to find out.


	8. Chapter Six

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **polyvore** : [Felicity's celebration dinner outfit](http://www.polyvore.com/cgi/set?id=113748172)

**VI**.

Oliver hadn't spent much time in the Glades after his grandfather died. He saw it on the news from time to time and heard about how much it had been falling apart, that jobs were scarce, but, for the most part, all he really knew was that it was somewhere someone like him had no reason to be. When he was a little boy, he always got the impression his father was ashamed of where he had come from. The Glades hadn't been as run down as they were now, but it was still the poorer side of Starling City. Still, every weekend Moira and Robert would pack him up into the car and take him out to his grandpa. Of what he could remember, he thought some of his favorite memories were of running around the house, riding the banister down to the bottom, sitting on the porch swing, or playing in the garden in the back. His mother would always complain about how dirty he got playing in the garden, helping his grandpa pull weeds, but Oliver didn't care. He was always distracted by the candies his grandpa kept in his pocket, pulling them out and sneaking to him at odd times, chucking him under the chin and asking him about school and what he'd been up to lately.

Unlike Robert, his grandfather always listened. He would sit Oliver down at his rickety old kitchen table, pour him a glass of milk and hand him a stack of Oreos while he listened to Oliver lay out his whole day in extreme detail, from the moment he woke up to sitting down and eating cookies with him. Those moments were always special to him, maybe because they filled that part of him that craved the encouragement and appreciation of a male figure in his life, or maybe because his grandfather in particular always made him feel so good about every little accomplishment. Either way, there were only good memories for him when he thought of his grandfather.

He had to drive by the old house to get to the homeless shelter. There was graffiti on the walls and the gate hung crooked on the fence. The cement pathway leading from the sidewalk to the porch steps needed replacing and the shingles around the window were just one strong breeze away from falling off. The paint was old, too. The whole house was old and only getting older. When his grandfather had died, he left the house to Oliver, but it had often been forgotten about. For the first few years, Robert used to send someone out to tend to it. Not to repair it, possibly because the draft that ran the house and the creaky steps were familiar, they were home even if Robert refused to acknowledge it. But eventually he stopped sending someone and so the yard was overgrown and the house just that much closer to looking like a crack den.

Oliver parked his car a few blocks down from the shelter and walked the rest of the way. He considered bringing Jasper, but she would've been tied up for two hours too long. His shift wasn't anything too demanding. He'd offered to spend more time but there were already a lot of volunteers doing a number of jobs. When he arrived, he waved at the few familiar faces he recognized and asked where they wanted him.

"You're on lunch duty today, handsome," Benji told him, grinning as he pointed to a milk crate full of aprons. "Put one on, grab some gloves, and help me hand this out."

Oliver nodded, walking over to dig out an apron. He had to discard a few, either because they were too small or too frilly for him to pull off. Eventually, he found one near the bottom, a shade of green so dark it was almost black. He pulled it over his head and tied it at his back as he walked to the counter with the gloves. Grabbing out an extra-large pair, he pulled them on before joining Benji back at the counter. There was a pile of sandwiches, cut into fours, on a pair of lunch trays, a stack of napkins within reach, and a large pot of soup with a ladle stuck in it.

"You want soup or sandwiches?" Benji wondered, brow quirked.

"Uh, I'll take sandwiches," he decided, trading places with him.

Benji was a good ten years older than Oliver. He was a foot shorter too, with narrow shoulders and a bit of a paunch on him, making a rather odd picture sometimes. He was all smiles and had been since the first time Oliver met him. He had a prominent widow's peak and a distinctive mole on his cheek. By society's standards, Benji would be not be called handsome himself, but he was a character. He was funny, friendly, and very confident. He called everyone 'handsome' or 'beautiful,' and, while Oliver thought it might offend some people, it seemed to cheer up more than it offended. Oliver thought it might just be a way to avoid forgetting names, though.

Oliver looked down the counter to see a line going around the whole room. "Are you guys always this busy?" he wondered. The last time he'd been there, he was put on stock duty, so he'd been too busy unpacking food in the back to see how everything else ran. His first stint at the shelter had been in the clothing department, helping to separate everything after it'd been washed and dried. They had an area set up with clothing racks where people could go through everything and grab what fit. According to the woman he'd been working with, they were always in need of socks. Oliver filed it away for later, when Sapphire was off the ground and he had the money to spare.

"Sometimes busier." Benji leaned over the counter. "All right, friends, let's eat!" he called.

With that, the line started moving. People stopped, one by one, in front of Oliver, accepting a sandwich before they moved on to take a bowl of soup. Coffee, tea, water, and a stack of cups was off to the side.

The faces that met Oliver as they stepped in front of him ranged from young to old, some recently showered while others looked like they hadn't had the chance to clean up in some time. There were a few people in wheelchairs, another man on crutches, and one who shook so violently he had to have a friend carry his food to the table for him. Mental states and personalities were so broad he almost felt overwhelmed. There was a woman smiling at him with only four front teeth; she didn't speak English, but she was excited when he gave her a sandwich, nodding at him over and over in thanks. She reached up to pat his hand, her fingers dirty and her nails gnarled. She did the same to Benji, who merely grinned back at her and told her to have a good lunch. The next man was Oliver's age; he was quiet and surly, impatient as he took his sandwich and soup, eager to get out of line.

It was funny, Oliver had never considered how different they'd all be. In his head, he'd always considered how grateful everybody must be when they came to shelters like this. There was an image he had of desperation, of hunger, and it was filled with someone being so appreciative over their food that they thanked him with tears in their eyes. But what he had done, really? He handed out a sandwich somebody else had made. He spent two hours, three days out of his week at this shelter. He didn't know their names or their stories or if this was something they'd been dealing with for a long time. In the end, he was still a spoiled rich boy who'd never had to suffer, never faced adversity quite like this, and always knew that if he needed help, his parents would offer it.

But that was why this was important. Perhaps it was selfish of him, to use these people and their much worse circumstances to open his eyes, but that hadn't been the point when he first started. When he'd arrived at the shelter with his mom, he'd been… intrigued. There were so many people, so many cogs moving in the machine, making sure others had food and shelter and clean clothes. His understanding of what it meant to be homeless was limited, at best, and this provided a different outlook.

He didn't have much to do lately except to prepare for the next meeting and, well, he was going a little stir crazy. Felicity had work all day and he could only walk Jasper for so long before even she got tired. So, he needed something else, something that would give back. When he was growing up and he'd complain that he was bored, Raisa was always quick to tell him that, if he really had nothing better to do but complain then he had enough time and energy to put it into something worthwhile, like volunteering. Oliver had always pretended not to hear her. He loved her, but he was a teenager, and there was little appeal at the time.

Now, however, he felt like he could be doing something, and should.

He didn't always know what to say to the people who came up looking for food, but he smiled and he told them to enjoy their lunch. He wasn't always comfortable, feeling out of place in his designer clothes, freshly showered. But maybe that was the point. Maybe being comfortable with it would be wrong. He shouldn't come to expect that others should suffer. It should bother him. And for the first time in his life, the suffering of others, the maltreatment of people, really did make him look up and take notice.

* * *

Felicity opened the door with a grin. "Hey," she greeted, waving a hand behind her. "Come on in. We'll have the studio for a few hours, but I'd like to get started as soon as possible."

Oliver stepped inside, casting a curious look around the open loft. "You said your friend was a film major?"

"Yes! He's really into directing, so he has every kind of camera and mic on the market." She stepped further into the room, where boom mics were leaned up against a wall and a large green screen hung against a red brick wall. "It's probably not as high tech as the big studios, but it'll work for what you guys were looking for." She pointed to a few cameras off to the side. "Everything is synced up with the computers, and he's already queued up a few backgrounds that he thinks will work. City landscapes, dark, strobe-lighty dancers, DJ's, that kind of thing. You guys will stand on the marks, pitch it all, and then I'll do some editing with him and get it all put together. We can shoot a few different scenes, try your lines out, see what works."

"This is awesome," Tommy said, stepping further into the room and looking around. He stopped when he was close to Felicity and bumped his elbow with hers. "Thanks for this, by the way. The Big Guy said you could help out, but wow, I didn't think we'd get this kind of hook-up."

She shrugged. "It's nothing. I know how much it means to Oliver, so I just wanted to help where I could."

Oliver answered her, though she'd been talking to Tommy, who'd walked off to give them a moment. "You're helping." He hugged an arm around her shoulders, pulling her against his side. "Between this and the research you did, we should write you in as a co-owner."

She laughed, her brows hiking as she looked up at him incredulously. "I think the club business is a  _little_  out of my area of expertise." She patted his chest. "But thanks for thinking of me."

"Are we using these mics?" Tommy wondered, tapping one. "Or are we going to get the little ones that attach to our shirts?" He turned to look at them. "Do I look all right for this? I feel like I could've dressed up more for my commercial debut…"

Felicity laughed under her breath. "You look fine."

"Yeah?" He wiggled his eyebrows at her before winking. "You don't look so bad yourself, Smoak."

Oliver pursed his lips in a frown, tipping his head at Tommy.

His friend held up his hands in surrender. "So? Where do we start?"

"Lines, I think." Felicity motioned toward the two X's marked on the floor with tape and then moved to take a seat on a stool. "All right, let's hear 'em." She waved a hand and cupped the other behind her ear. "Wow me."

Oliver grinned and took his place at Tommy's side.

The both of them looked like overexcited goofballs at first, and quickly descended into shoving each other and laughing instead of actual work.

"Don't make me break out the megaphone," she warned, raising an eyebrow at their horsing around.

Oliver smoothed out his shirt and faced forward. "Okay. Business persona." He inhaled deeply to find his calm and Tommy mimicked him.

Amused, Felicity looked between them and nodded.

It took three hours to shoot the ad, with a number of distraction, retakes, and fixing dialogue to what they felt worked, but, in the end, Felicity assured them she had enough footage for her and her friend to work with. She locked up the studio as she followed them out, dropping the key in her purse and joining them in the elevator.

"So, Felicity, what do you think? Would you finance our club?" Tommy wondered, elbowing Oliver in the side.

She smiled over at him. "I don't have anywhere near the kind of money you guys would need, but I'd invest if I could."

"Yeah?" Oliver looked down at her skeptically.

"Sure." She looked up at him, her eyes soft. "You guys are obviously knowledgeable about the club scene, you've done your research, even more than what I gave you, and you're motivated. You're going to need to be, because getting somebody to put hard earned money into this idea isn't going to be easy, and you'll probably get rejected, a lot. But that's what makes the payoff that much sweeter."

He stared down at her searchingly and, slowly, a smile turned up his mouth.

"What?" she asked.

He shook his head. "You just keep surprising me."

The doors to the elevator opened and she stepped out, smiling back at him over her shoulder. "That's a good thing?"

He nodded. "Yeah."

"Good." She twirled on her heel to walk away. "Then I'll keep doing it."

He grinned as she walked away, and he didn't stop until Tommy clapped a hand on his shoulder. "You're in so deep over your head," he said laughing.

Oliver didn't deny it.

* * *

"You've gotta promise you won't mention it to mom," he said, his hands pressed over Thea's eyes.

"I know, I know, I promise," she said, squirming excitedly. "What is it? I wanna see! Show me!"

Oliver led her into the living room of Tommy's apartment, grinning to himself.

While Thea waited impatiently to be introduced to the surprise he promised her, Jasper hopped off the couch she'd been curled up on and walked over, eager to meet someone new. She walked right up to Thea and immediately started sniffing her, her tail wagging happily as she nudged Thea's hand with her wet nose, looking to be pet.

Thea went still and Oliver could feel her brows furrow in confusion beneath his fingers.

"Thea, meet Jasper," he said, taking his hands away.

Seeing no one in front of her, she opened her mouth to ask who Jasper was, only to look down and realize a dog was sitting in front of her. Oliver had never seen Thea's eyes light up so quickly before. "A dog!" she cried. "You got a dog?!" With an excited laugh, she fell to her knees and wrapped her arms around Jasper's neck, hugging her tight before she started scrubbing her fingers behind Jasper's ears and petting down her neck. "Oh, she's so pretty, Ollie!"

Jasper licked Thea's face approvingly, leaning into her side as her tail thumped loudly on the floor.

Thea fell backwards at the weight of the dog against her and they toppled together. Jasper sprawled over Thea's stomach, her paws up as she showed her belly to Oliver and yapped.

Bending down, he rubbed her belly and rolled his eyes. "You're going to have to change when you get home or mom's allergies are going to act up."

Thea didn't care, she thumbed Jasper's ears and smiled at her. "How old is she? How long have you had her? Can we take her for a walk?" she asked, volleying the questions at him quicker than he could answer.

"She's not technically mine; I volunteer to take her out. And yeah, we can walk her, that's why I wanted you to come over now. I've gotta drop her back off at the shelter after, but I thought you'd like to come to the park with us. You can throw the ball for her."

"Really? That's so cool! Can we go now?" she hoped.

Jasper, having recognized the words 'walk' and 'ball' had already jumped off of Thea, sitting pretty in front of Oliver, waiting to see the leash.

"Sure." Oliver reached a hand down to help Thea to her feet and smiled as she dusted herself off, loose dog hair floating off her clothes. He grabbed his jacket and the leash before returning to them, a ball already waiting in the pocket of his coat. He handed Thea the handle to the leash as he attached it to Jasper's collar and scratched his fingers over her neck. "We'll take her to the park, all right? You can walk her, but if you think she's pulling too much, just give it to me. She can get excited."

Thea nodded happily, smiling brightly up at him.

He felt a little bad, half-wishing he'd introduced them earlier. He could already see Thea coming out as often as she could, visiting just for the chance to see Jasper. It wouldn't be the worst thing. Ever since he'd moved out a few weeks earlier he'd had less time to spend with Thea. He and Tommy were shopping the club around to just about anybody that would listen, and, in between that, he was volunteering at the homeless shelter, finding time to spend with Laurel, and hanging out with Felicity. He managed to get together with his mother each Sunday for brunch, but Thea was usually busy with homework or friends. Not that he was complaining, exactly; it was actually kind of nice to spend some quality time with his mother.

"Oh, can we get ice cream when we're at the park?" Thea wondered. "Do dogs eat ice cream? I bet she'd like something with peanut butter in it! My friend Lisa gives her dog peanut butter sometimes, 'cause it makes him chew funny. It looks like he's talking! She makes up things he'd say, too. Lisa's funny."

He half-grinned down at her and walked her to the front door. "We can stop for ice cream after our walk," he agreed. "But don't tell mom, or she won't let you have dessert after dinner."

Thea beamed up at him and drew a cross over her heart.

Oliver followed her out of the apartment, sighing a little himself as she started talking about school and her friends and which ones had dogs. His sister wasn't called Speedy only for how quick she was to chase him, she could talk a mile a minute. He wondered if she'd ever grow out of it, but wasn't sure he really wanted her to. It was just one of those Thea things he loved. She was so eager to tell him things and there never seemed to be enough time, so she tried to fit it all in one breath. He loved her for it.

Wrapping an arm around her neck, he gave her a noogie, laughing when she cried out, "Ollie!"

She shoved him back, frowning at him as she tried to flatten her hair, but her irritation with him was gone as quickly as it came.

Jasper let out a little bark, wanting attention, and suddenly Thea only had eyes for the dog.

Oliver smiled, tucking his hands in the pockets of his jacket. Introducing Thea to Jasper might just've been the highlight of his week.

* * *

The bank was out. With his accounts frozen, the bank didn't look favorably on giving him any kind of loan. He didn't have any education or business expertise that left them confident in his abilities to put his idea to work, and, while Tommy had a comfortable amount in his trust fund, it was all he had. Neither of them had any kind of credit, and, given their history, it probably would have been bad anyway. On top of that, Malcolm had followed in Robert's footsteps, warning Tommy that if he tried to do this with his trust fund, Malcolm would cut him off at the knees. Apparently, he didn't think Tommy had it in him to run a business and, while he wanted him to do something with his life, he didn't think that opening a club would reflect well on either Merlyn Global or him. It appeared the consensus on them was that they'd drink more than they'd sell and it wasn't a solid enough proposal to get anyone to sign on.

Oliver was losing hope, and a lack of support from Laurel wasn't helping things.

"I just think it wouldn't be the worst thing to tell your dad that you want to continue working with him until this club idea picks up. It's a safety net, at least."

He scowled. "It wasn't so long ago that you were saying moving out and losing my trust fund would be good because I  _wouldn't_ have a safety net…"

Laurel sat down beside him, her hand resting on his chest. "That was before. Oliver… I know you want to do this, but is it realistic?" She looked up at him, a furrow between her brows. "Why don't you put it on hold for a while? Build up your business experience with your dad, see how it works, and maybe in a few years you can try this again."

"What if I don't want to put it on hold?" He shook his head. "I don't want to be my dad's shadow, and I  _don't_ want to grovel for my job back."

"Nobody said anything about groveling," she argued.

"You think he'd just give it back to me? After I made a big show out of wanting to do this, even if he wasn't going to help?"

She shrugged. "Well, maybe you shouldn't have done that either."

He blew out a sigh. "It's a little late for advice."

She leaned back from him, looking irritated. "Well, maybe if you'd actually  _talked_  to me like I wanted you to instead of storming out when I told you that this club idea probably wasn't going to work out, you would've heard my advice before it all blew up in your face."

"Can we just stop fighting? Please?" He shook his head, running his fingers back through his hair. "I'm tired of arguing with you about this."

Her face softened. "I don't want to fight either." She leaned against him, her head falling to his shoulder. "So? Does Tommy have you on a curfew, or can you stay for a while?" she wondered, slipping her hand down his chest to rest on the buckle of his jeans.

Glancing at the clock, he said, "I've got an hour."

Laurel's head pulled back in surprise. "That's it?"

"I have something to do tonight, but I'm free tomorrow."

Her brow furrowed but she shrugged. "Okay." Smiling then, she bit her lip. "An hour's enough time to make-up…"

* * *

A little more than an hour later, Oliver arrived outside the theater. "Am I late?" he wondered.

Felicity turned toward his voice, her blonde hair swinging. She smiled as she spotted him. "I'm pretty sure we're missing the trailers. Which are  _kind of_  the best part…"

He grinned. "Sorry. Buy you popcorn to make it up to you?"

"Deal," she agreed, handing him his ticket. "I bought them early just in case."

"You didn't have to do that," he said, digging out his wallet.

She shook her head. "It's fine. I know things are a little tight right now. And asking Tommy for help makes you awkward, so…"

He frowned. "Is it pathetic that I'm buying you popcorn with money I borrowed from my mom?"

She laughed under her breath. "Honestly?" She nodded. "A little."

He shook his head, smothering a smile. "At least you're honest."

"Why don't I buy the popcorn?" she offered. Before he could protest, she poked his chest with her ticket stub. "And when you're a big club owner, you can pay me back."

He struggled with it for a second, but her sincere expression made him relent. "Okay. But if you're paying, I want the real butter."

Her head fell back as she laughed, and the sound settled deep into his chest, erasing that lingering sense of failure.

They shared a large bag of extra buttery popcorn and a box of Dots while they watched Mr. and Mrs. Smith. It was one of the few nights in a long time that he felt completely relaxed.

* * *

"I think I'm going to have to stop in and see my doctor. I can't seem to stop sneezing," his mother told him, shaking her head. "Your sister came home yesterday and I sneezed for five minutes straight, it was the strangest thing."

He cleared his throat, shifting in his seat. "Actually, mom, there's something I've been meaning to tell you…"

Her brow furrowed. "You can tell me anything, Oliver. What is it?"

He picked apart the muffin in front of him for something to focus on. "You remember when I was growing up and I used to bug you and dad for a dog."

"Of course. You asked for one every birthday and every Christmas until you were ten. It was awful. Your father used to complain that a boy needed a dog, but you know I was so allergic I couldn't—" She paused, her brows raising. " _Oh_."

"Her name's Jasper. I introduced her to Thea last week and, well…"

"Ahh, so  _that_ 's why she's been so eager to visit you at Tommy's…" Moira smiled lightly. "Oliver, I can't tell you not to have a dog. It's inconvenient for me, but you're building a life now, and if you want a dog, you should have one."

"Jasper's from a dog shelter. I walk her. She's not really mine, but…"

"You want her to be?" she asked knowingly.

He nodded. "It's just a lot of responsibility. I don't even have my own place and I'm not sure Tommy really wants a dog around full time."

"Well, I'd offer to take her but if I can't handle the dog fur your sister comes home wearing, I'm not sure how I'd handle a whole dog."

"No, I know, it's fine. I just… I don't know. I'm not used to dealing with things like this. It used to be, if I wanted something, I got it. And now I have to think about all of these other things first…" He frowned. "Growing up is a lot more difficult than mainstream television led me to believe."

Moira laughed, her head falling back. She reached for him across the table and squeezed his forearm. "You'll figure it out."

He half-grinned. "Yeah… I think I will."

* * *

Oliver smiled when he spotted her, sitting in the grass with a golden retriever resting their head in her lap. She was reading a book, her fingers absently scratching the dog's ears.

"Who is  _this_?" Oliver asked when he was in reach.

Felicity looked up, smiling in greeting. "This is Mario." She patted his blond head and then held a hand out. "Hey, Jasper…"

Trotting forward, Jasper nuzzled Felicity's hand and then dropped her head to sniff at Mario, who sleepily regarded the smaller dog with disinterest.

Still excited to play, Jasper yapped for attention and bumped her snout against Mario's, but he merely burrowed deeper into Felicity's lap.

She chuckled. "I'm afraid this guy is all tuckered out." She dug a hand into her pocket and came up with a treat, holding it out for Jasper to take. "Did you guys run here?"

Oliver took a seat next to her and pulled his shirt off his sweaty chest, waving it to get some cool air flowing. "What gave me away?"

She looked over at him, brow raised. "You're very sweaty."

He leaned toward her. "Come here…"

She waved a finger, shifting back from him. "Ew, Oliver, no…"

"Come on. Gimme a hug." He slipped an arm around her waist and tugged her to his side, rubbing his sweaty cheek against hers.

" _Oliver_!" she cried, but her laughter gave her away.

Excited, Jasper ran around them, stepping on Oliver as she tried to get in between them, licking their faces.

Felicity giggled, hugging Jasper's neck. "Save me, Jasper!" she cried dramatically.

But Jasper hopped off her and barked, bending her body forward and wagging her tail, eager to play.

Oliver grinned at her and nodded. "All right." He stood up, digging the ball out of his pocket and bouncing it on the ground once before he threw it for her to chase.

It was a few minutes of back and forth before reality interrupted.

"Have you thought about what's going to happen when she gets adopted?" Felicity wondered as he picked up the sticky ball Jasper dropped at his feet.

He threw it again. "You think she will? It's already been a while."

"She's a good dog. Energetic, well-trained, a good family dog…" She nodded. "Somebody will adopt her."

He frowned.

"It'll be good for her," Felicity encouraged. "She's stuck in those kennels all day. I mean, it doesn't make her time with you any less fun, but dogs shouldn't be cooped up like that all day. It's not fair to them."

He nodded, but the idea of going to the shelter and not picking up Jasper made a special part of his heart hurt.

He felt a hand on his leg and looked down to see Felicity looking up at him gently. "It's hard, but she'll have a family, and they'll love her just as much as you do."

He knew she was right, and Jasper deserved that, but… He wasn't sure anybody  _could_ love her as much as he did.

When Jasper finally plopped down on the grass, Oliver sat down beside Felicity, his arms stretched out behind him to lean on. "How's work?"

She inhaled deeply to tell him just how work was, and Oliver listened to every word, watching her hands wave around as she complained about one of the executives spilling his coffee all over his desk, which leaked down into the tower of his computer and destroyed it. Or so he thought. Felicity was able to get it up and working again and retrieve just about everything he needed. She segued into talking about her supervisor and how she was pretty sure he spent more time on porn sites than he did actually supervising, but as long as he kept that confined to his office, she really didn't care.

She was animated. He liked that about her. He liked how she went off on tangents and nearly smacked both him and the dogs in the face with her gesticulating. It was cute.

It wasn't until the sun started to go down that they decided to leave. He helped her up from the grass, holding onto her hand a little longer than necessary and, as they stepped onto the path, simply let that same hand drift to the small of her back. They walked the dogs back through the park and followed the familiar route to the shelter.

Felicity asked him about Tommy and how things were going with each proposal they made to family friends and business owners they'd met over the years. He didn't gloss over the details or try to make it sound any better than it was. If he'd found out anything, it was that telling Felicity what was going on didn't lead to disappointment, only encouragement and understanding. She didn't lie to him, either, though.

After they dropped the dogs off in their kennels, they walked over to the Big Belly Burger on the corner.

"Do you ever get discouraged?" she wondered, tugging the sleeves of her shirt up to her palms and resting her chin on her fists as she leaned forward in her seat, elbows balanced on the tabletop.

He nodded. "Sometimes in the middle of pitching the job, I think I see my dad there, shaking his head, just waiting for me to finish so he can tell me no." He smiled bitterly. "It throws me off. And Tommy has to step in and pick up where I left off."

Felicity paused for a moment, biting her lip, her brow furrowed.

He frowned. "Are you okay?"

"Hm?" She looked up abruptly, her eyes a little wide. "Yeah, I just…" She sighed. "Actually, I need to tell you something."

Oliver went still. Those weren't good words. Weren't they basically the same as 'we need to talk?' Of course, he and Felicity weren't technically in a relationship, so it wasn't as if she could break up with him. Weird, but that's exactly what he felt she might do. He tried to go over a mental list of what he might've done that would make her upset, but he couldn't think of anything specific. Actually, the last time he'd say he really messed up was the night he got black out drunk, and even then he'd had enough foresight to call Felicity for help rather than trek out on his own and get into even more trouble.

"Oliver?"

"What? Sorry?" He shook his head, blinking quickly before he focused on her.

She half-smiled. "I think you zoned out on me."

He winced. "I did. Sorry. I… What did you want to talk about?"

"Um, well, your dad, actually…" She knotted her fingers together and pulled on them in an awkward gesture of hers he'd come to relate to her being uncomfortable with or worried about something.

"My dad," he repeated, his confusion evident. "Okay… What about him?"

"I… That is, a while ago…" She waved a dismissive hand. "Wait, I should start at the beginning."

His mouth twitched. "That'd help, yeah."

She sighed. "Okay, I just want to start this by saying that I had good intentions… Misguided, maybe, and, well, I might've overstepped some serious boundaries. In fact, I wouldn't be surprised if you were mad at me, and that's okay, really, you have every right. I just… I want you to know that when I decided to do this it was after a build-up of seeing you so upset and beaten down and I'm really terrible - awful, really - with seeing people I care about get hurt, so, well, I kind of talked myself into it. That's not an excuse, because I probably should have talked to you first, but sometimes I get really headstrong, which, I'm sure you've figured out, and then I do things, and they're a little impetuous, which most wouldn't really think was a very 'me' style of doing things, but, well, when emotions are high…" She held her hands up in a 'what can you do' fashion. "Anyway, I just hope you'll remember that."

He blinked at her. "Okay…" he said slowly, still unsure about where she was going with this.

"Right, um, okay, so I went to your dad's office a few weeks ago because, well, I was worried about you. You'd mentioned a few times how upset you were and how you felt like your dad never really noticed or cared about you. And that kind of guided you throughout most of your life, which is why a lot of your decisions have been kind of…" She made a whistling noise and stuck her thumb down. "So, well, I'd been thinking about it, a lot, and I knew you weren't going to say anything to him about how you felt. Maybe because you're guy and feelings can be hard to talk about, or maybe because you're, well, you, but I got worked up and I was mad that he'd turned you down and then Mr. Merlyn had too, and you were feeling really disappointed, and I just… I mean, I don't want to say I snapped, I just kind of came to this decision to say something, so…"

She drummed her hands on the table top awkwardly. "I went to your dad and I told him that he was missing out on what a good person you were. And I might've, kind of, implied that he had numerous illegitimate children, too, but that's kind of beside the point. Anyway, I told him that the person you are now isn't who you were then and that he was wasting his chance to really get to know you and support you if he was going to focus on some of the mistakes you made before. I think I also told him about Jasper and the homeless shelter and how hard you've been working on the business proposal and that it was something you were really proud of and so he should be too."

Raising her hands, she covered her eyes and sighed. "And I'm really sorry. I should've told you earlier, or not done it at all. I just… My mom always said I was nosy, and maybe in a way I am. But when I decided to do it, it was just because I… I was angry. I was really just  _mad_ that your own father couldn't see how far you'd come and how hard you were trying and I just wanted him to see that. So, I know it was a mistake and it probably didn't help anything and you might be really, really upset with me, and I'll totally understand that. But… you needed to know and I'm really sorry."

There was a long pause as Oliver sat back in his booth and tried to absorb what she'd said.

Slowly, Felicity lowered her hands from her eyes. She watched him curiously, her eyes darting over his face, while she picked apart a napkin nervously.

He took a deep breath, opening his mouth to say something, and then let it out on a sigh.

She frowned. "Oliver?" she asked, brows hiked. "On a scale of 1 to your favorite show being cancelled, how upset are you right now?"

"I… don't know." He shook his head, leaning forward and rubbing his hands over his face. "You confronted my dad…"

"I did."

"Without telling me."

"Yes."

"And you told him some pretty personal things, some of which I didn't want him to know…"

She winced, but nodded.

He blinked a few times. "Your mom was right, you're nosy."

She nodded. "Guilty."

"And you overstepped, a lot."

"I know. I did…" She sighed, clasping her hands together. "You can yell. You  _should_ yell!"

He stared at her a long moment. "What'd he say? After, I mean."

"Oh, uh…" Her brow furrowed. "He thanked me."

"Thanked you?"

"Yeah, he thanked me for being there for you and he said that he might not say it, but he has noticed that you were making progress."

Slowly, his mouth curved up a little. "Yeah?"

She nodded, smiling faintly. "Yeah."

He hummed, turning his gaze down to the tabletop.

"Are you mad at me?" she asked.

He looked up. The funny thing was, despite knowing what'd she done, it never occurred to him to be mad at her. Was it a breach of trust? Yeah, a little. It was also a little awesome, though. That she was so upset  _for_ him that she'd stood up to her own boss, the CEO of the company she worked for, to tell him that Oliver didn't deserve how he was treated. And that stood out a lot more than the other part.

Sighing, he reached for her, taking her hands in his and squeezing. "I appreciate that you wanted to stand up for me, I do." He looked over at her, her teeth chewing at her lip. "I don't recommend doing it again and, maybe next time, just talk to me, but… thank you."

She blinked. "You're thanking me?"

"I…" He blew out a breath. "I can't remember the last time I had anyone care enough to stand up for me."

Felicity's face softened. She shook her head, squeezing his hands tighter. "Oliver, you are worth standing up for." She stared at him searchingly. "I wish you could see yourself the way I see you."

"How do you see me?"

"You mean outside the whole handsome and charming thing?" she teased with a grin.

"No, you can add those in too."

She laughed, shaking her head. "You're smart, smarter than you give yourself credit for. You're bright and funny and loyal. You've got a big heart. One of the biggest I've ever seen. And you try so hard, to be a good son and friend and person. When you're with Jasper and when you talk about Thea…" She smiled softly. "And when you take care of me when I'm sick, and paint my nails, and remember that cherry is my favorite flavor for like, everything… There is so much good in you that I don't think you even realize you have." Her thumbs stroked over his knuckles. "You deserve this club. You deserve to be happy and loved and to have your father and everyone see that you're a lot more than they ever thought. And more than all of that, you should want it for yourself, and get it, and know that you deserve it."

Oliver's throat burned hollow for a moment as her words hit home. He pulled her hands up and over and kissed them. "You're a good friend, Felicity…"

"I have my moments." She grinned then. "And hey, when you're having one of those weird 'my dad does not approve' problems in the board room, you could always go the clichéd route and think of him in his underwear. It's hard to take even a disapproving dad seriously when he's in his underwear."

Oliver laughed, shaking his head. "I'll have to try that sometime."

"Let me know how it works."

Dinner arrived then and they each sat back, their hands untangling as burgers and fries were put in front of them.

"Thanks," Felicity said before she plucked the toothpick out of her sandwich and started with the pickle it had pinned to the top.

"So, what do you think I should do?" he wondered, mouthful of burger.

She raised an eyebrow. "About the club?"

He nodded.

"Keep trying."

He swallowed his bite and licked his teeth clean. "And if it doesn't work?"

" _Make_  it work."

His lips curled up. "That easy?"

She shook her head. "No. That  _hard_." Her brows hiked. "That's the problem with dreams, Oliver. They're called dreams because they're usually harder to make happen. But if you really want it, if you really think this is what you want to do, you have to keep trying until you get it."

"Felicity Smoak wisdom."

"And it's free, too." She winked at him.

He dusted his hands off and nodded. "Okay."

"Okay?"

He licked his lips. "I'll keep trying."

She smiled up at him. "You'll get it one day, you know?"

"Yeah?"

She stared at him a long moment, completely serious. "You're going to do great things, Oliver Queen."

He met her steady gaze and let those words sink into his bones.

* * *

That Friday, Oliver sat down for dinner at his parents' house. Thea was bouncing all over the place, talking over herself to fill him in on all the details of what she'd been doing since the last time he saw her, which was only yesterday, since she'd been all too eager to see Jasper. He was starting to think she only came by for the dog. Somehow, in less than 24 hours, Thea had stories to share from fights with her best friends to marks in her classes to cute boys that so much as glanced in her direction. Oliver absorbed all of it with a grin, letting her hang off of him, idolizing him despite the fact that he was currently a homeless, jobless, dream chaser.

"So? How is everything with the club going?" his mother asked enthusiastically. "You had a meeting with Charles Henry, didn't you?"

He nodded. "We haven't heard back from him. But Tommy and I have another meeting with a possible investor on Sunday."

"I heard. Tom Jenkins, is that right?" Robert asked as he cut off a bite of his roast. "I'm surprised you got a meeting with him."

"He was… surprisingly welcoming," Oliver offered. "Tommy's a good people person. He gets people to give us a chance even when they wouldn't usually give us the time of day."

"He  _is_ charming," Moira agreed, smiling lightly. "You picked a good business partner."

Oliver grinned. "It helps that we've padded our business proposal a little more. Felicity helped us mock up a commercial for the club She's… been very supportive."

"A commercial?" Robert tipped his head curiously. "I'd like to see it."

The eager little boy inside him sat up straight and took notice of his words, eager for any sign of praise. "Sure. I'll drop it by QC sometime."

Moira looked between them before settling on her son once more. "I keep hearing so much about Felicity, but I've yet to meet her. You should bring her to brunch some time…"

"Uh, yeah, I could ask her," he hedged. "I think you'd like her, mom."

She hummed, nodding, and turned back to her husband. "Robert, do you know Felicity?"

His mouth tilted slightly as he stared at Oliver. "I do. In fact, the last time I saw her she was telling me how much Oliver's grown up… which is especially funny since I believe the first time she met Oliver, she was telling him that was  _exactly_ what he needed to do."

Oliver laughed a little awkwardly. "She wasn't wrong…" He shrugged. "She rarely is."

Moira turned back to him, a curious expression on her face. "You never mentioned that… How exactly did a first meeting lead to her telling you to grow up?"

"Uh… I was, well, rude to her. I had her pretend to be my girlfriend to… throw somebody else off. It wasn't one of my brighter moments."

"Ah…" Moira's brows hiked.

"Anyway, Felicity didn't appreciate being used and she made sure I knew that. After that… I don't know. We kept running into each other and, one thing led to another. Before I knew it, we were friends."

"They used to eat lunch together every day when Oliver was still working with me," Robert shared, picking up his wine glass. "I have to admit, I was… surprised that Miss Smoak gave him another chance. Not discouraged though. She's a good egg."

"Really? Every day…" Moira eyed him for a moment. "Do she and Laurel get along…? I was disappointed she couldn't come to dinner tonight."

Oliver cleared his throat. "Laurel's been busy with school. She sends her apologies."

His mother hummed, but her question was still hanging in the air.

"Felicity hasn't met Laurel," he said succinctly. "But she knows about her. And if you're asking me if I'm sleeping with her behind Laurel's back, I'm not."

Moira frowned, briefly canting her head toward Thea. "Oliver, I'm not trying to accuse you of anything. I just… I remember when you first told me about Felicity, how excited you were… You already have so much on your plate, I don't want you to add even more…" She stared at him searchingly. "Just be sure that you know what you're doing, that's all I ask."

Oliver offered a thin smile. "You know, I'm not feeling hungry anymore."

"Oliver…" his mother sighed.

"It's fine, really. Dad, I'll have the commercial sent to you. Mom, it was nice seeing you. I'll pick you up on Sunday." He winked over at Thea, who looked disappointed he was leaving. "You can come by tomorrow, if you want, all right?" He stopped to kiss the top of Thea's head before he grabbed up his jacket and walked out of the room.

That heavy weight of both parental expectation and his mother's warning landed on his shoulders, no matter how many times he tried to shrug it off.

He drove back into town, wandering aimlessly for a while before eventually pulling up in front of a familiar apartment building.

When the door opened, he smiled tiredly.

Felicity grinned back. "Hey… I just ordered Chinese. Hungry?"

"Starved," he told her.

She nodded her head for him to come in and he stepped over the threshold.

Taking a deep breath, he followed her into the living room, and felt the worst of his day begin to drain out of him.

Felicity took a seat in the corner of her couch, a pillow in her lap. "Talk, or movie?"

He took a moment to consider it before saying, "Movie… We can talk after."

"Sure." She pointed a thumb at her entertainment stand of DVDs. "Your pick."

He pushed himself up from the couch and circled around to the stand, bending to read the many titles. "I'm thinking a comedy, what about you?"

"I'm up for that." She walked to the kitchen, asking, "Wine? Or beer?"

"Beer," he said, before plucking a case from the shelf and reading the back. "Do I need to see the first two to get  _Return of the King_?"

She paused. "You haven't seen the  _Lord of the Rings_  movies?"

He shook his head, eyes darting away for a moment and then back. "Are they good?" When she didn't answer, he looked over to find her staring at him blankly. "That good, huh?"

"Bring me  _Fellowship of the Ring_ ," she ordered, before adding, "I'm going to educate you."

He laughed under his breath and plucked all three from their place on the shelf.

* * *

It was two in the morning and they were half-way through  _Two Towers_  when she fell asleep with her head pillowed on his shoulder. She'd spent much of the movies filling him in on character backgrounds and the differences between the novel and the movie adaptations. Apparently, she was a big Tolkien fan and had read the books numerous times, even offering to let him borrow both  _The Lord of the Rings_  series and  _The Hobbit_. All of them sat stacked on the coffee table, the spines cracked and the covers well-worn from numerous reads.

Oliver slipped the blanket off from the back of the couch and tucked it in around her while he finished the movie. Arms crossed comfortably over his chest, he absently played with a tendril of her hair, twisting it around his finger. She smelled like peaches; he knew from using her shower that it was her body wash, but it carried his mind elsewhere. Some days were harder than others; some days he looked at her and got completely distracted by just how pretty she was. Other days he thought he was getting used to it, adapting to how her whole face lit up when she smiled or how her eyes seemed to get brighter when she laughed. But then something would happen, her head would fall back and he'd notice how long her neck was. Or she'd say something, shaking her head in her excitement, and he'd be helpless to how cheeks seemed to pop when she smiled. Felicity was pretty in a way that was distracting. Everything about her was distracting to him. Her voice and her laughs, of which she had many, and the fire in her eyes when she got really worked up about something.

There were facets about her that he was still learning and exploring. She wasn't perfect. She was nosy and stubborn and he'd never met anyone more arrogant about their skills with a computer. She could be bossy and she was always sure she was right, never mind that she usually was, and she had a Loud Voice that could rival even his mother's on a bad day. So he knew she was flawed, just like he knew he would never be anywhere near perfect, but he still liked those things about her. He liked how she always stood up for herself and that she was proud of how smart she was and that she'd fight him until the bitter end. It helped that she was even more beautiful when she was angry.

He used to think something similar about Laurel. Until anger turned into disappointment and sometimes pity and, more recently, just a general feeling of having become resigned. Laurel's expectations of him had been on a downward spiral for some time now; if the pattern kept up, he was pretty sure she'd be well into resentment soon. The thing was, he loved Laurel. He did. He just wasn't  _in_  love with her anymore. The passion that had once been between them had dulled over the years, and, while he knew that happened in relationships, he felt like they'd fallen into a rut they would never get out of. She had her life, with her school and becoming a lawyer and he had his, chasing impossible dreams of running a club with Tommy. Those two lives didn't completely fit together, not like they once had, or like he  _thought_ they once had.

He wasn't unaware that Laurel had always kind of frowned upon his way of living. She loved him despite how he was, partying instead of working or achieving much of anything. But he didn't fit the mold of the man she wanted in her life, and her frequent pushing for him to try harder often led to them fighting and then breaking up and a few weeks of one-night stands until she took him back. It was a cycle he was tired of, only he hadn't realized he was tired until Felicity walked into his life and called him pathetic for not just owning up to what he really wanted in his life, and what he  _didn't_  want.

He realized suddenly that her advice was still true, and he wasn't following it.

Things had changed a lot in the time since he'd met Felicity.  _He_ had changed a lot. And not entirely in ways that everyone wanted him to. He didn't party as much; in fact, he hadn't been to a club for anything but scoping out the competition since that last bender. He had given shadowing his father a chance and subsequently decided it was not for him. He frequently walked a dog and volunteered at a shelter; neither of which were things he'd ever considered doing before. He'd moved out of his parents' home and was staying in Tommy's spare room. He had little to no money except for what his mother deemed fit to give him or Tommy lent him. He was shopping a club around with anybody would listen. And despite how a lot of these decisions didn't end up resulting in the perfect life he once envisioned, he was happy with them.

He was happy that he didn't have to go to QC every morning and sit in on long, boring meetings. Instead, he picked up Jasper and they tripped around the park for a few hours. He worked on his business proposal and he did research and he looked for new people for them to pitch it to. He stopped in at the shelter to see if they needed an extra hand anywhere.

He was happy that when he went home at night, it wasn't to a house filled with parents who were disappointed in every decision he made, or reluctant to believe that he could accomplish what he had set out to do. They wanted him to grow up, and the first step to that was independence.

He was happy that, while he didn't have an endless bank account, he still had food, he had a roof over his head, and when Felicity offered to pay for a movie or buy his lunch, she didn't look exasperated or tired with having to pick up his slack.

He was happy that the two closest people in his life supported him. Tommy, despite rejection after rejection, joined him in finding the next mark, the next possible investor. And Felicity kept an open mind, encouraging him to do whatever made him happy, to drive toward his dream instead of settling for what worked or what fit or what his father wanted him to.

But he was doing one thing wrong and even though he knew it, that cowardly part of him still kept him from fixing it.

* * *

Oliver adopted Jasper on a Tuesday.

Tommy came home to find her sitting on his couch, gnawing on a toy bone. She barked at him so loudly he shrieked like a little girl. Oliver fell over laughing.

Felicity wasn't surprised.

"You're a big softie," she told him, taking a seat in the arm chair, Jasper's head resting in her lap as she looked to be pet.

"Not sure anybody's ever said that to me before," Oliver remarked, brow furrowed.

"Maybe you spend your time with the wrong people."

"I resent that," Tommy shouted from the kitchen.

"Eavesdropping is rude," she sing-songed back.

"You're… rude…"

Oliver snorted before turning his attention back to Felicity. "I thought about what you said, about her having a family, but…  _I_ wanna be her family." He shrugged, leaning back in his seat and patting the spot beside him to call Jasper over. "It's probably going to be a little cramped in the apartment for her, but after I get the club going and we start bringing in revenue, we'll get a place of our own." He hugged an arm around her and squeezed.

Happily, Jasper turned her head up and licked his face.

He grinned down at her before looking over at Felicity, who was smiling at him sweetly. She nodded at him, giving her small sign of approval, and he scratched behind Jasper's ear and settled comfortably with her against him.

Tommy came out then, with a bowl of popcorn and three bottles of beer.

They turned on  _The Fellowship of the Ring_  since, apparently, Tommy too needed to be educated, and settled back for a marathon.

This felt right, Oliver thought.

He had his dog, his best friend, and his…. Felicity.

* * *

They found an investor for their club in Mason Brookwell, a wealthy business associate of his fathers who had built his empire on supporting local businesses and building them up. He clapped at the end of their presentation and, with very little fanfare, cut them a blank check and told them to put in what they thought worked to get it started. He wanted a share in the company, but he wasn't greedy, and that's what had them signing the dotted line.

They kept their composure until they left the office and then they were hugging each other.

Tommy reached over and gripped Oliver's head tight before he slapped his shoulders. "Can you believe this?  _Huh_?" he asked excitedly.

He shook his head, grinning so wide his cheeks hurt. "We're opening a club."

"That's right!" Tommy yanked him in for another hug. "Me and you, buddy. Business owners."

Nothing sounded as close to freedom as that.

* * *

Oliver and Tommy took Felicity out to celebrate. Dinner and dancing at the finest establishment in the city. Table Salt sat the three of them and, though Felicity tried to keep them from spending too much money on her, Oliver ordered their best bottle of wine.

"You'll love it," he promised her.

"Oliver that's way more than you need to pay," she told him, shaking her head.

"You're worth every dime," he said, reaching across the table to cover her hand with his.

"And now we have more dimes than we know what to do with," Tommy piped up cheerfully.

Felicity tore her gaze away from his to look at Tommy, her brow raised. "I think you know exactly what to do with them. Buy the land first, get permits for building, and start there."

The wine arrived then and they were each poured a glass.

Tommy raised his in cheers. "To Sapphire."

They clinked their glasses in answer and when Oliver looked across the table at Felicity, her eyes shone the exact color he expected for the occasion.

"You're happy," he said, his hand still tangled with hers.

"Ecstatic," she answered. "And really, really proud."

He squeezed her fingers in his. "Me too."

Dinner was a happy affair; expensive appetizers came and went, with dinner left unfinished and packed up for later. Felicity begged off dancing for another night since she was so stuffed and while Oliver offered to see her home, Tommy said he wasn't done for the night, and hugged them each goodbye before hitting the club scene for his own celebration.

Felicity's apartment was quiet and he briefly found himself missing how Jasper immediately greeted him when he came home. But he walked further inside as she kicked off her heels, dropping her another three inches.

Catching his amused smile, she raised a brow. "What?"

"You're just… very small."

"Are you kidding?" She pressed a hand to her stomach. "I don't think I've ever eaten so much in my life."

He shook his head. "You're beautiful."

Her head tipped to the side, staring up at him with that unconvinced look of hers.

He copied her, grinning all the while.

"Okay, if you say so," she murmured before turning to walk away.

He caught her hand and tugged her back.

Her head tipped up to look at him, brow furrowed curiously.

Deciding not to overthink it, he merely pulled her closer, an arm sliding around her waist while he raised her hand, and then he moved into a simple two-step.

Slowly, her hand raised to rest on his shoulder. "We don't have any music," she whispered, as if worried she'd somehow interrupt the moment.

"I promised dancing," he said, his lips brushing the shell of ear.

His fingers were settled low on her back, hovering near the tail of the zipper, thumb rubbing side to side over the butter soft fabric. Gradually, they moved closer together, their fronts pressed so close that he could feel the rise and fall of her chest. He wondered if her heart was beating as quickly as his. Her fingers slipped in between the spaces of his and curled down. He wondered if she pressed hard enough, her prints, unique to all others, might permanently etch themselves into his skin, a reminder of her that would never leave.

Every breath he took was filled with the faint scent of peaches and the perfume she'd dabbed on her neck. He searched it out, burying his face at her shoulder and, without giving it much thought and acting purely on instinct, he pressed a delicate kiss to her neck, where her pulse was beating a quick song. His lips dragged up to behind her ear and his teeth found the lobe, tugging gently. Her hand squeezed around his and he answered it with the pressure of his own before he let his lips whisper over her cheek, finding the corner of her eye and the arch of her brow, the center of her forehead and the tip of her nose. He hovered over her lips, staring down at her closed eyes, counting her eyelashes. God, she was so beautiful…

When she opened her eyes to meet his, he slanted his mouth over hers. Breathing out every bit of anticipation and breathing in every inch of satisfaction. Her lips were soft and warm and they slanted over his, again and again, finding that impossibly perfect fit. Her hand released his, reaching up to curl around his neck, fingers buried in his hair. He sighed into her mouth, his tongue curling around hers and stroking, lashing the back of her teeth before he nipped her bottom lip and licked the sting away. He wrapped his arm around her and lifted her, his hand sliding down to cup beneath her thigh, hiking it around his hip while his fingers teased the underside. He held her against him as their mouths moved, reaching and searching and meeting. When she broke away from his lips, it was only to kiss down his face and suck a hot, wet path over his neck, her fingers diligently working the buttons of his shirt free, pink painted nails lightly scratching his chest.

His hands slid under the hem of her [purple dress](http://www.polyvore.com/cgi/set?id=113748172) and dragged it up to her waist, squeezing and kneading her thighs, his thumbs stroking over the cheeks of her ass, making her squirm and press against him, her legs tightening around his waist. God, she felt good. He fingers flexed up, reaching for the strings over her hips, eager to peel the black fabric down and off her, to bury his finger to the hilt inside her.

Her teeth scraped over his collar bone and he hissed a breath between his teeth. She stretched back up and found his mouth, sucking his top lip between hers. He slid a hand up her back, burying it beneath her hair and stroking his fingers down the nape of her neck. Their kisses slowed down then, each panting against each other, eyes meeting. She was so beautiful; an aroused flush tinted her cheeks, her pupils blown wide, and he could already imagine it…

He could imagine waking up in the morning to her smiling at him, rolling over to kiss him, her blonde curls in disarray around her shoulders. He could see himself convincing her to spend a few more minutes just lying in bed, even though she had to get to work and she knew he'd make her late, again. And then Jasper would be there, pushing her way in between them, demanding attention, and Felicity would linger, her head on his shoulder and his chin balanced atop her hair. They'd pet Jasper and argue over who should make coffee and when she finally dragged herself out of reach and got ready for work, she'd come back for a kiss and tell him to get some sleep because she knew he was working late at the club. He'd try to convince her back into bed and she'd laugh and let him think he won but just as soon as he eased back to the pillows, she'd step out of reach, blow him a kiss goodbye and leave for work. And he would love it. He would love her.

His phone rang, like a death knell from his pants pocket, and it hit him like a blow to the gut.

 _Laurel_.

He didn't even have to look at the call display to know.

"What?" Felicity asked, tipping her head, her nose brushing his. "Do you need to get that?"

He did. He did need to get that and he needed to slide his hands out from beneath her dress and he needed to apologize to her and to Laurel and beg for forgiveness. Because he might've just fucked up the best thing to come into his life because he was too eager to remember that he was still in a relationship. And he could lie. Blatantly or by omission. He could turn his phone off and take Felicity back into her room and fuck her until they were both completely and utterly satisfied, and then he could go over to Laurel's and gently break up with her, and neither would be the wiser.

But he didn't.

He slowly put Felicity down until her feet landed on the floor and then he took a step back and he told her, honestly, "I made a mistake tonight, because the person phoning me right now is my girlfriend."

Her face fell abruptly and she took a quick step back.

He held his hands up. "Listen, I… I know how this looks. But I need you to know that I've been with Laurel for three years. We break up a lot; I mean, the epitome of off and on. And I've made mistakes, I've cheated on her a lot, and she knows that. I- I screwed up all the time and I figured she'd always forgive me anyway, so what did it matter. But this… This is not one of those times. On the surface, yes, it might look that way, but… What happened tonight, you and me, it was different."

Her brow furrowed. "Why are you telling me this?'

He laughed emptily. "Because I've wanted to break up with her for a very long time and I should have. When I realized how I felt about you and how distant I was becoming from her, I should've broken up with her. But you were right, when you met me. I—I'm a  _coward_  and when things get difficult, I avoid them. I didn't want to deal with what was going on with Laurel. I didn't want to add that to the sky-high pile of failures I've already got behind me. I just, at first I guess I thought it would go away."

Felicity shook her head. "That  _what_ would go away?"

"How I feel when I look at you! How… my stomach twists up when you smile and how my heart actually jumps because I've made you happy. I… I fall asleep thinking of you, hoping I dream about you, and I wake up wishing you were beside me. And I keep trying to find excuses to be around you and even when I don't have them, I know that when things go wrong, somehow I'm going to wind up here. Because you…  _you_  are the only thing that makes sense in my life. You're the only person that I've ever felt like I can be myself around…"

His eyes burned then and he felt a hitch bite at his throat. "I have never known anyone who actually believed that I was  _enough_  and then I met you. I met you and even knowing what a complete  _asshole_ I was, you still told me that I should do what makes me happy. When everybody but Tommy thought I would fail at everything I tried, you were the only one to tell me that I could do this, I could open this club. You believed in me and you pushed me and you have never… You never look disappointed in me."

He shook his head, his teeth clenched. "Until five minutes ago when I made the worst mistake of my life and I jumped the gun on what I  _know_  is going to be the most important relationship I will ever have. So, I am asking you to  _please_  not give up on me. Because this… this thing with Laurel, it's  _over_ , I know it's over, I just need to pull the plug. And when I do, I want to know that I haven't completely ruined what you and I have because, even if you can't love me, I… I need you in my life."

She stared up at him, tears brimming in her eyes.

He stared at her searchingly. " _Felicity…_ "

Swallowing tightly, she hugged her arms around herself. "I think you should go."

He shook his head, stepping toward her, and cupped her face, rubbing his thumbs over her cheeks to swipe away that tears that tripped and fell. "Please, don't give up on me.  _Please_. Not you."

"Oliver…" She pressed a hand to his chest to push him back. "You need to talk to Laurel… I don't know what's going to happen to us, but you  _need_  to talk to Laurel."

He let out a heavy breath and stared down at her. "Okay…" He licked his lips and stepped back. "I'm going to fix this."

She let out a faint smile, but he felt it like a knife through his chest.

"I promise," he whispered, before he turned and walked out of her apartment.

He heard the door close behind him and hoped it wasn't final.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I wasn't going to put this out until tomorrow, but a pretty amazing thing happened where Celina Jade (the awesome actress who plays Shado on Arrow) read at least the first chapter of this story and quoted/rec'd it, not **[once](http://sarcasticfina.tumblr.com/post/76773798060)** , but **[twice](http://sarcasticfina.tumblr.com/post/76902750366)** , which is pretty much the coolest thing to ever happen to me. So, that's pretty awesome.
> 
> I also have a really busy week coming up, so I wasn't sure if I'd be able to update, so I'm kind of glad I'm getting this out now. I'm editing really late, though, so if you see any errors, let me know and I'll fix them when I get a chance to.
> 
> This is one of the big peaks of the story. I recently told a few people to be careful what they wish for in getting a Laurel/Oliver break up and this is why. The very beginning of the next chapter is Oliver and Laurel finally discussing their issues, but, as you can see, what Tommy said has come to fruition. Oliver jumped the gun. He didn't deal with things as he should and now his relationship with Felicity has suffered. I'm curious as to what you think will happen from here. Will she forgive him after he breaks up with Laurel or no?
> 
> I want to thank all of you for the amazing reviews I've received for this story. I don't have as much time as I'd like to be able to respond to each of you individually. Although, part of that is because I'm constantly writing the next chapter, so I hope you'll forgive me a bit on that end. I'll also encourage you to find me on Tumblr, where I'm far more accessible and happy to discuss plots and stories and characters. I've really loved writing this story and it's grown to mean a lot to me. There's still a lot to come and I'm very glad you've all enjoyed it and thankful for your encouragement.
> 
> So, thank you for reading and, please, leave a review! This is a pretty big moment and I'm so, so eager to hear what you guys think! Reviews are my lifeblood. They do keep me writing and focused and certainly make me want to update faster.
> 
> Thanks so much!
> 
> \- **Lee | Fina**


	9. Part Seven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Beautiful fic poster made by** : [dhfreak](http://dhfreak.tumblr.com/post/72956851210/we-keep-all-our-promises-be-us-against-the)
> 
>  **Polyvore** : [Felicity's pj's](http://www.polyvore.com/felicity/set?id=117091357), [Felicity's outfit](http://www.polyvore.com/felicity_7b/set?id=117091578)

[ ](http://dhfreak.tumblr.com/post/72956851210/we-keep-all-our-promises-be-us-against-the)

 

 **VII**.

Oliver was pretty sure that he had reached a whole new level of dick in his personal life. Point in fact, he was on the way to his girlfriend's apartment to finally end their on/off relationship; something that had been a long time coming. But was he worrying about her or what he was going to say? No. No, he was thinking about the woman he'd fallen for while still  _in_ that relationship. He just couldn't get it out of his head. Stuck on repeat, he just kept worrying that Felicity wasn't going to forgive him. And he couldn't blame her if she didn't.

Three years.

He'd been with Laurel for three years.

Some days it felt like so much longer than that, and not—  _not_  in a good way.

He'd wasted so much time. He'd dragged his feet, acting like it was fine, it would all be okay, he'd deal with it later. A leftover habit from the past, one he'd used far too often to make himself feel better about not dealing with something. And, much like always, it caught up with him. Later was  _now_. He should've done this a long time ago, he knew that. Long before he ever met Felicity, but definitely after he had.

He'd  _like_  to say that he grew up, that he'd reached a point in his life, where he didn't avoid responsibility to a point that debilitated him, but he hadn't. Even knowing how important this was, how  _necessary_ it was, he still didn't go inside right away. He lingered outside Laurel's apartment building for a long time;  _too_ long. Sitting in his car, going over what to say, what was fair, what needed to be said and what didn't. He left one hand on the steering wheel, thumb drumming against it, while the other ran a hand through his hair, his eyes glancing at the clock on the dash periodically. One minute became five and then ten and soon, a whole hour had passed with him doing nothing but procrastinating the inevitable.

It wasn't that he didn't want to break up with Laurel. He'd done this, come here for that exact reason, more times than he could count. But then she'd open the door and she'd smile at him… That bright, beautiful smile of hers, that used to make his stomach twist up with regret. They would argue and she'd yell and throw things and he'd leave, vowing that this time he'd stay away. But then a few weeks would pass and he would come back, with flowers and a half-assed apology, and she would forgive him, because she always did, and the cycle would continue. Only this time was not going to be like the rest.

Felicity hadn't promised him that they would get together after. There was a chance she was never going to forgive him for this. His track record with relationships was a joke, so for them to start on the tail of one riddled with him cheating wasn't exactly a shining endorsement. But the fact remained that, whether Felicity was waiting for him in the end or not, this thing with him and Laurel just couldn't keep happening.

He was tired. Fucking  _exhausted_  with the whole thing. The back and forth, off and on, repetition of it all.

With a heavy sigh, he finally pushed the car door open and climbed out. He was on auto-pilot on the way up to her apartment, having walked this same path so many times he could do it in his sleep. He scraped a hand down his face, going over what he wanted to say in his head, his lips moving along to the words. When the elevator doors opened, he took a deep breath, pinching the bridge of his nose before he stepped off.

And then he was there, staring at the gold lettering that marked her door, his fist raised. Swallowing tightly, he knocked, a stuttered noise that seemed oddly uncertain.

Did he hope she answered or did part of him still want to run away?

A bitter smile tugged at his mouth. God, he was such a coward.

When the door swung open, his heart swooped down like a leaden weight to settle in his stomach.

Laurel smiled at him, even as her brow furrowed with confusion. "Hey! I wasn't expecting you tonight. Didn't you get my message? I've got a paper due tomorrow, so my apartment's kind of a mess right now. Books and papers everywhere."

He nodded. And, for just a second, he saw his chance to escape. He could leave, try again tomorrow, pick up where he left off. He could come over in the morning, or maybe later, when she was done school. Felicity would probably want some time to herself anyway. A day or two to wrap her head around things before she wanted to talk it out. So, he had time. He could walk away right now. Except… if he did that, he always would. That was his pattern and it always had been.

His grandfather used to tell him when he was a boy that he should always do the important stuff first. "Don't put anything off that needs doing, Ollie. You do that, you're never gonna get anywhere in life… Take your daddy for instance. Robbie doesn't take no for an answer, does he? No, sir, he knows what he needs to do and he does it! Now, he could learn a thing or two about  _what'_ s important, but we all got our own priorities, don't we?" And Oliver would always nod and agree, in part because his grandfather was the smartest man he'd ever known, but also because his priorities at the time were praise and love and if he agreed then maybe his grandfather would tell him what a smart boy he was and give him a cookie and a pat on the back.

Laurel was already reaching for the door. "…get together tomorrow, okay? I'll call you when I'm done class."

He put a hand out, pressed to the door so she couldn't close it. "It can't wait."

Her brow furrowed, lips parted with surprise. "Um… okay…" She took a step back. "What's this about?"

He stepped into her apartment, closing the door behind him, and started toward the living room with her hot on his heels. His eyes darted around uncomfortably, his finger picking at his thumb, nervous energy running through him with no outlet.

"Ollie?" she asked, her voice raising a little. "Did something happen? I mean, I know you had another meeting today… Financing for the club, right? How'd it go?"

Jaw twitching, he turned to face her and, with little fanfare, announced, "We got it. Full financing. He cut us a blank check."

"Wh-What?" Her eyes went wide in surprise before she let out a little laugh of excitement. "Oh my God! Ollie! That— That's  _amazing_!" She looked up at him searchingly. "You're going to have your own business! Have you told your dad? He must be so proud of you!" Her face was bright, genuine joy shining in her eyes, and Oliver felt a little twist in his chest. She hadn't been so encouraging about it, but now that it had a real possibility, he could see how quickly she was readjusting the dreams she had of them together.

He half-smiled, devoid of the joy he'd been feeling earlier, and shook his head. "I haven't told my dad. We went out to celebrate after the meeting."

Laurel paused. "Celebrate," she repeated, her head raising. "What? You and Tommy?"

Oliver cleared his throat, unbuttoning his suit jacket. He wondered if it made sense to sit down, or maybe standing was better. She'd probably try to kick him out pretty early on, but he didn't want that. They needed to talk. Not fight, not yell and scream until they were hoarse, but to actually  _talk_. They never did that when they had a problem.

So, he crossed the room, taking a seat in the overstuffed armchair, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees, and rubbed his hands over his face, sighing.

He could hear her as she silently moved to the couch, sitting adjacent to him, close but just far enough away that she was out of reach. Did she know what was coming? Had she been expecting this for a while? She had to know they weren't working. They weren't making sense. He'd told her, hadn't he? He'd told her that things with them were never going to really last; they were never going to work forever. That they were just chasing circles that never went anywhere. Because they were. They always were. Right from the beginning, it was all just one endless race toward nothing. They stalled, restarted, and never quite got the right traction. But then, denial was something they'd both embraced early on, wasn't it? And what were words if he never followed through with them?

When he dropped his hands, he turned to look at her, unsurprised to see that she looked worried and wary and had crossed her arms over her chest defensively.

"This isn't working," he finally said, meeting her eyes.

She shook her head, blinking against the tears that were quick to collect.

"Laurel, you're not happy. I don't make you happy. I… I'm  _never_ going to be what you want, or what you need, or…" He let out a quick breath. "Or what you deserve."

"That's not true," she said thickly, her lips trembling. "I  _love_ you."

He licked his lips, glancing away. "You remember when we got together? It was all so easy… We were young and all that mattered was having fun… I screwed up, I got into trouble, I got arrested, and there you were. You picked me up and you dusted me off, and you told me not to do it again. Told me you wouldn't be there next time. But… you always were. You always will be."

Blinking quickly, she sniffled. "Of course I will. I've always been there for you. You… You're  _Ollie_."

Shaking his head, he blew out a breath. "It's okay to be sick of cleaning up after me. I know you're tired of seeing me in the papers or on TMZ or getting that call at 4 in the morning that I…" He laughed hollowly. "I pissed on some cop's car."

"It was a mistake. You were drunk…" She swiped at her face, wiping tear tracks from her cheeks. "It happens. I forgave you for that."

"That's the problem."

" _What?_ "

"You always forgive me. And you shouldn't." He swallowed tightly, his brows hiking high. "I played off that. I used it because I knew you'd always be there. No matter how much I fucked up or how many times I fucked around on you, you'd always be there. You'd always take me back. And I don't—" He sighed, tapping his fingers on his knee. "I have no idea why. Maybe in the beginning it was because you loved me, because I convinced you I'd be a better guy next time; that I wouldn't do it again… I don't know. But I lied. I  _lied_ , Laurel. Because I was never gonna be a better guy. Not the kind of guy you wanted or the guy you needed in your life. I was just… I was an asshole. God, I was a  _dick_. I mean… I wasn't doing anything with my life. I partied all night and slept all day and I ignored everybody telling me to stop wasting my life. The only reason I went to work with my dad was because I didn't want him to cut me off. I wasn't growing up. I didn't make that decision for myself. I just knew that, without his money, I'd have nothing. 'Cause that's all I was. A good time wrapped in too many daddy issues, scraping by on what I learned in charm school."

Laurel stared at him, her eyes wide and her brow furrowed. She didn't understand. Not where he was going or where he was coming from, but he couldn't stop it all from pouring out. The dam was breaking and the flood was overwhelming, but it had been a long time coming and it needed to be said.

He shifted forward on his chair and clasped his hands together, squeezing his fingers when they shook. Emotional intimacy, verbal honesty; these were not his forte.

"When I was eight years old, I used to sit outside and wait for my dad to come home. I'd sit out there all afternoon. I wouldn't eat dinner or do my homework or come inside, not— not until the town car pulled up and I saw him. And every day I thought it'd be different. I thought he'd be happy to see me, you know? That he'd get out of that car and he'd just smile and laugh and grab me up and ask me how my day was and tell me how the best part of his day was coming home and seeing me. Family sitcom stuff, right…? But, he never did. He came home and he sighed and he asked me what I was still doing up, wasn't it past my bed time… And I'd follow him into the house, thinking maybe we could eat dinner together and talk, but…" He shook his head as tears bit at his eyes. "But he'd tell me he was too tired and he'd take his lunch and go to his office, locking the door behind him. And sometimes I'd wait there, too. I'd sit outside his door and hope that maybe he wouldn't be so tired  _after_ … But I'd always end up falling asleep. The door would never open. And Raisa would find me, carry me up to my room and tuck me in. She'd kiss my forehead and tell me that my dad loved me, he just…. He was a busy man."

He nodded. "And for a long time, I believed that. I believed he loved me even though he never said it. That I was still important to him even though he never really talked to me. But, then I was, I don't know, twelve, thirteen years old, and… Eventually you just grow out of that, you know? You stop believing things just because other people say them. So, I stopped working so hard to get his attention the right way. I stopped hoping he'd see me and I started  _making_ him see me… I let my grades fall, I stopped doing homework so the teacher would call home. And when that didn't work, I told myself I didn't care anymore. I didn't  _care_  what he did. But I  _did_. I fucked around at school and I started getting into real trouble and I realized that the only time he ever really talked to me was to tell me I needed to grow up. The cops would drive me home and I'd laugh, I would  _laugh_ , because now he had to open that office door and invite me in. Now he had to look me in the eye and remember that he had a son… He had  _me_!"

He blinked quickly and reached up to drag a hand down his mouth. "It got really easy after that, pretending I didn't care… It was so easy to stop trying, stop doing anything, really… It helped that I came from such a respected family, though. So, I didn't get kicked out of school like I should have. And all those colleges wanted me even thought my GPA was shit and my record even worse. Because I was still a Queen even if I was a fuck up. And it looks really good when you've got a billionaire on your roll call…" he scoffed, bitterly.

Grinding his teeth together a moment, he took a moment to collect himself, squeezing the knee of his pant leg under his fingers. But then he looked at her, his mouth pressed in a firm line. "Do you know what I thought when I met you?"

She shook her head vaguely, still overwhelmed with what he'd said.

"I thought… 'Dad's gonna like her. Beautiful, smart, wants to be a lawyer,  _yeah_ …' Might as well have picked you out himself." He smiled sarcastically. "You're a lot like him, you know? Motivated. Strong. Stubborn… You were probably the only thing I ever did right in my dad's eyes. He's probably still wondering how I ever got you to give me a chance." He laughed shortly. "But that wasn't the hard part. Being what you wanted, convincing you I could be,  _that_ was…"

She'd moved down the couch and reached for him now. "You didn't have to convince me. I… I  _want_ to be with you."

He looked down at her hand, curved around his and frowned. "Why'd you stick around?" he wondered. "I hurt you, over and over again. I cheated on you and I treated you like crap. You should've run away from me the first time I messed up. I don't get it. I don't get why you'd waste your time."

"I wasn't! I… You're my first love." She smiled brokenly. "You're… You made mistakes, but it's okay. We all make mistakes. I mean, I'm not perfect. I'm  _not!_ And I don't expect you to be!"

"But you had expectations. And you  _should_. The problem is I'm… I'll  _never_  live up to them."

"You're wrong. You're… You've got the contract now. You'll have your own business.  _Ollie_!" She let out a faint, soft laugh. "You've worked so hard and you're already doing so much. I  _see_  that! I see how far you've come and how much this means to you."

He nodded. "Now."

She paused. " _What?_ "

He stared at her searchingly. "You see it now. But you didn't, when I was starting out. You expected me to fail. You expected me to go back to my dad… And it's okay. You  _should_  doubt me. I've done literally  _nothing_ to prove I'm anything but a failure."

She shook her head quickly, her mouth open to argue, but he didn't let her.

"The thing is, you're always going to think of me as the guy who cheated on you and never cared about anyone but himself and couldn't be trusted to do anything but make mistake after mistake after mistake. And, for some reason, you'll forgive me for that and you'll let me try again and maybe next time I'll be a little better, maybe next time I'll actually mean it when I say I'm sorry, but I'm never gonna grow up if I'm with you. And you're never gonna be with someone you deserve. Because that guy is a lot better than what I've been to you."

Her voice cracked, "What are you saying?"

He was quiet for a long moment before he finally told her, "I don't want to do this anymore. I don't…"

"You don't  _what?_ " She let out a huffing breath, her eyes becoming hard. "You don't want to be with me? Is that it? You don't  _love_ me?"

He shook his head. "I'll always love you, Laurel. I'll always care about you."

" _Don't_." She waved a finger at him, sneering. "Don't  _lie_  to me!"

"I'm not lying. You… You were a huge part of my life."

"Right!" She laughed emptily. "So huge that as soon as your life really starts, you just get rid of me…" Shaking her head, she swiped at her tears. "And for what? Because your dad didn't  _love_ you enough?" She stabbed a hand at her chest. " _I_ loved you! I was  _there_ for you. I picked you up from the bars and bailed you out of jail and planned out our whole fucking  _life_ together, Ollie!  _I did!_ "

"What life?" He stared at her. "What life were we going to have, Laurel? What do you think it was going to be like in ten years, huh? You want us to be like my parents? They can barely stand to be in the same room together some days. The life you think we could have, it's a  _dream_. Our reality is more like a nightmare."

She flinched, turning her head away. "We could take some time… You can focus on getting the club going and I can focus on school. Maybe when this is all over, when there's not so much stress, then we can come back to this." She looked back at him hopefully, tears brimming in her eyes. "It wasn't  _all_ bad! We can go back to the good times." Reaching out, she gripped his hand. "This is good. We can get it all out on the table, we can talk about it, and when we try this again, it's a clean slate! No more lies. No more cheating. I— I know I haven't been supportive of you and this club and… I didn't know how you felt about your dad. I'm  _sorry_. I regret that. But… you need to talk to me about these things. I can't read your mind. We need to be honest…"

 _Honest_.

His mouth turned up faintly in a sad smile and he let out a breath before he met her eyes.

"You want me to be honest?"

" _Yes!_ "

He paused for a moment, considering what it meant. If it would do more damage than good. But the truth was, this was part of their cycle. If he didn't end it, if he wasn't completely honest with her, what was the point?

"I didn't celebrate with just Tommy tonight," he told her, shaking his head faintly. "A few months ago, before we got back together, I met someone." He felt her hands go slack around his. "We were just friends. She… She caught me by surprise… I don't know. I just kept running into her. And things just…  _progressed_. She's… been there for me, through all this stuff with the club and dealing with everything with my dad…" He rubbed at the furrow of his brows, his voice thick as he admitted, "And I fell in love with her."

Laurel inhaled sharply, her hands falling from around his.

He didn't look at her right away as he continued, not sure he could handle what he'd see in her face. "I didn't mean to. And I knew it was wrong. I knew I was still with you and it wasn't fair, not to either of you. But…I've never felt that way about anyone before and… I didn't want to lose her. So, I tried to just be her friend and I ignored all the problems you and me were having. And Tommy warned me, he told me that I was gonna screw it up, but I didn't listen. I thought I could handle it. I thought… I don't know. I don't know what I thought. I just know that I wasn't ready to deal with our relationship on top of everything else. But that's not working. This— _us —_ we're not working."

Blowing out a heavy breath, he finally looked at her, at the hurt in her eyes and the tears streaming down her splotchy cheeks.

There was a long, tense moment before she asked, "Did you fuck her?"

He shook his head.

"Don't lie. Not now." Her voice was shaking. "Did you fuck her before you came over here to break up with me?"

He struggled for a moment before he said, "I kissed her. But I stopped. The phone rang, I… I knew it was you. I didn't…"

"You didn't what?" She arched an eyebrow at him. "You didn't want to sleep with her when you still had me, is that it? You didn't want to  _taint_ what you have with her?"

That… That was pretty close, actually.

She let out a scoffing breath, as if she knew that was exactly why.

Oliver rubbed his hands over his face and sighed. "You have every right to hate me. I'm not going to make any excuses for this. I'm sorry that I hurt you, and I'm sorry that I didn't end things a lot time ago, before any of this happened. I'm just… sorry."

She stared at him, a tear tripping off her lashes. "You're sorry," she repeated. "For hurting me, but not for loving her, right? You broke my heart, but it's okay, because you salvaged hers…" With a snort, she shook her head. "So what's so different about her then, huh? What makes her so special that you're not going to hurt her just like you did me? What happens in a year or two when you've got some half-naked college girl in your club, drunkenly groping you, up for anything? Is  _Saint_  Oliver going to suddenly grow a conscience and not cheat? Hm? What happens when you get bored playing the respectable adult, Ollie? Is she going to pick you up from the club or sit behind you in court or convince your parents that you're  _really_ trying this time…?"

She glared at him bitterly. "Because you're right, it  _does_ get old. And maybe this feels good when everything is all perfect and new and you've got your club, but it's not always going to be like that. One day you're going to wake up and you're going to get cold feet, because you  _always_ do when it comes to growing up and commitment, and you're going to do the same old things you've always done. And when I see your stupid face, drunk and grinning on some piece of shit tabloid, I'm going to  _laugh_." She grinned then, full of empty mirth. "Because I dodged one really shitty bullet, but she'll be stuck scraping you off the floor of whatever jail cell they throw you in this time." Standing abruptly from her couch, she stabbed a finger toward the door. "Now, get  _out_."

Mouth folded, he stood from the chair and looked at her, practically vibrating in her anger and betrayal, barely restraining the tears that continued to fill her eyes.

"I know you're pissed at me, and you should be. You don't have to believe me, but I mean it when I say I'm sorry that I hurt you."

" _Go_ ," she snapped through gritted teeth.

Without another word, he walked down the hall toward the front door, unsurprised when, as soon as he walked through it, she slammed it closed behind him. He didn't deserve her forgiveness, he knew that, but that didn't mean he didn't regret hurting her.

As he walked down the hall to the elevator, he sighed.

Smiling emptily to himself, he snickered. Tonight was supposed to be full of celebration; instead, he'd broken the hearts of the only two women he'd ever been in love with.

And the award for asshole of the year goes to…

* * *

Kelsey arrived with alcohol; she held it up as if it were a weapon to be used to fend off anything terrible the world had to offer.

Felicity started to laugh, only to break down crying.

She folded forward, her face buried in her hands, shaking her head, and sniffling.

With a soft sigh, Jennifer came forward, wrapping her arms around Felicity and dragging her toward the living room while Kelsey closed the door and went to the kitchen to find a few glasses for the Scotch she'd brought with her.

Felicity had changed out of her celebration outfit of earlier, taking a long shower and trading in her pretty purple dress for her comfiest pajama pants, a grey t-shirt, and her fuzzy, faux-fur, slipper-boots.

While she tried to gather herself, Jennifer sat beside her, rubbing circles between her shoulder blades, silently waiting, patient as ever.

Meanwhile, Kelsey returned with the alcohol, taking a seat on Felicity's other side, plopping down beside her and dropping the full bottle of scotch on the table with a bang, the clang of glasses right behind it.

"All right, share the details. Even if you didn't break down in tears, you've got your sad pants on,  _literally_ , so, what's up?" Kelsey wondered, pouring theme each a glass before she sat back on the couch, crossing her legs.

Felicity shook her head, leaning back, swiping at her eyes and rubbing the tear tracks from her cheeks. "I'm an idiot."

"Arguable," Jennifer replied, turning to face her better, hugging her sweater closed and tipping her head. "Start at the beginning."

"The beginning…" Felicity snorted. "Stupid coffee break… I don't even  _like_ strawberry yogurt. In fact, the whole yogurt family is kind of iffy for me. But I forgot to bring a granola bars. Now granola bars I like. They take forever to expire and there's substance, right? You can actually  _chew_  a granola bar. There's something about yogurt though, all squishy and liquidy and it just slides down your throat, no effort needed… Stupid yogurt."

"Either I'm drunker than I think I am, not unusual, or you are making  _no_ sense," Kelsey sighed, raising an eyebrow. "Jenn? Tie breaker?"

Jennifer frowned. "Maybe the beginning was too vague…? What happened tonight? Is it work? Family? Oliver-related? What?"

Felicity took a deep breath, rubbing her hands over her knees as she sat back even further, sinking against her couch. "Oliver got funding for his club," she informed them, staring at a spot on her wall, just a few inches off the floor, where a small table used to sit until she kept knocking into it and finally moved it somewhere less hazardous to her shins.

"He and Tommy wanted to go out and celebrate and they invited me, because I've been trying to help, I guess, sort of. I mean, I was supportive and I did some research and I helped them out with this commercial, it's… It was nothing, really. I—I'd do it for you guys, too. I just thought I was being friendly, because I was, because, you know, he has a girlfriend and he's, well,  _him_ , and I'm  _me_ , and that… that wasn't going anywhere. So what if I had a tiny crush on him, right? Because that happens. There was that time, junior year, where I thought I was in love with Kelsey, but I really just wanted to steal all of her self-confidence for myself, but whatever, the point is… I was being a  _friend_.

"So, they wanted to take me out, and I said, yes, because  _hello_ , free food, and also dancing— I was promised clubbing afterwards. But then I ate too much, like strain the stitching on my dress ate too much. So, I decided to call it a night and Oliver brought me home and then… then we danced, because he said he promised and there was this… this really sweet moment where it was just… just  _us_. And we were right there and there was no music and it was…  _intimate_. Like— Like nothing I've ever felt before. It was just… It was like everything else just fell away and all I could feel was the way he was holding me and all I could hear was the sound of him breathing and then… Then he was kissing my neck and it just felt…  _right_ , you know? And then he was pressing kisses all over my face, and they were soft and so  _delicate_ that I almost couldn't breathe for a second, because I've never felt that  _special_  before…"

She realized suddenly that one of her hands had risen, her fingers faintly fluttering just under her mouth.

"And then we were kissing and it was… the most amazing kiss I've ever had. I… I've never felt that much passion and intensity before, just  _overflowing_."

"I'm gonna need a bigger glass," Kelsey muttered, shifting in her seat and reaching for the bottle of scotch.

"So what happened? What changed between passionate and intense to crying on your own?" Jennifer wondered, frowning.

"His phone rang." Felicity's head fell back, her eyes squeezing shut for a moment. "Reality called in the form of his girlfriend."

"That  _dick_!" Kelsey exclaimed angrily.

Felicity shook her head, raising her head once more. "No, that… I—I  _knew_ he had a girlfriend. He'd mentioned her before. Laurel. I just… The last time we talked about her, he said he knew he had to break up with her. And we just— We never really talked about her again. He doesn't bring her up a lot, and what he has told me has been kind of… negative, I guess. Not against her, not exactly, more like them as a couple. So I just, I don't know, maybe I convinced myself that he broke up with her, to make myself feel better when we were kissing. Maybe I didn't want to remember that he had a girlfriend." She rubbed her hands over her face. "I don't know. I… I didn't think he'd kiss me if he had someone else. I…"

"You trusted him," Jennifer said softly, reaching out to rub a hand down her arm.

Felicity turned to look at her, tears brimming in her eyes. "I'm an idiot." She shook her head, her lips trembling. "And a home-wrecker."

Jennifer's mouth tilted slightly with amusement. "I don't think you have it in you to be a home-wrecker, Smoaks. I think you just got caught up in a really emotional friendship that took a turn into romance that maybe it wasn't ready for."

Her brow furrowed, eyes dropping to her lap. "He told me he was going to break up with her. That he'd wanted to for a long time and he should've done it a long time ago, but he didn't. He said he wanted to be with me and that he's wanted to explore this…  _thing_ between us for a while. But… I don't know."

Taking her hand and squeezing it, Jennifer wondered, "So let's say he does break up with his girlfriend, what then?"

Chewing her lip, Felicity shook her head. "I don't know."

"Best case scenario?"

"We get together and move past all of this and, I don't know, have a relationship…" Felicity shifted, her gaze darting around uncertainly. "But how do we  _do_ that? He… He had a girlfriend this whole time, I… That doesn't exactly endorse him as a good boyfriend, right? I mean, if he  _knew_ how he felt about me, but he stayed with her anyway…"

"Again, what a  _dick_ ," Kelsey muttered.

Felicity turned to her, sighing. "I don't think he tries to be. I think he's trying really hard not to be. I mean, he said he was a coward and he always runs away when things are difficult. And I know— I  _know_  that doesn't sound like a good thing. But admitting it and realizing it's something he needs to work on, that's a step, right?" She groaned, her head falling back. "I know I sound like I'm defending him, and maybe I am, a little, but I just… I feel like I'm painting him in a really crappy light, and I don't think that's who he is."

"Maybe he painted himself that way," Kelsey argued. "Look, I'm all for you getting your freak on with anybody who looks that good. And clearly he liked you. Totally ignoring what happened tonight, from what you've told us and what we saw that night he stayed over after his drunk pity-fest, he's definitely attached to you. But just because he's figuring his shit out now doesn't mean he's going to come out a winner at the end of this. The whole point of figuring things out is that he's still in that whole 'who am I' quest for enlightenment, which means he doesn't know who or what he wants." She shrugged. "You really want to tie yourself to that sinking yacht?"

"Pretty sure it's 'ship,'" Felicity muttered.

"Tomato, potato," Kelsey dismissed.

Jennifer rolled her eyes, shaking her head, and turned back to Felicity. "As much as Drunky McWiseWhenIFeelLikeIt doesn't know her idioms, she does have a point… Hey, I'll be the first to toss my hat into the Felicity and Oliver ring. I think he's been good for you. You were getting lost in that 'all work, no play' cycle for a while there. I know Kelsey and I have been pretty busy, and you've got your dog-walking thing, but human interaction is important, too. And having Oliver around, even just as a friend, it was lightening you up. You were happier with him around. But he  _is_  going through a transitional period in his life and, to put entirely too much pressure on what I learned in my college psych classes, he might be attaching a lot of the positive changes in his life to you… So, while it might seem super whirlwind romance and sweet, you've gotta be careful, too." She shrugged. "I don't know him enough to say, so don't chalk it up to what we're saying automatically, but objective opinions can't hurt…"

Felicity nodded faintly, her heart aching a little. "So what do I do?" she wondered, her voice a choked whisper. "Because even if he's going through that whole 'who am I' thing, I'm not, and I…" She blinked back her tears. "I really like him."

Kelsey sighed, leaning over to rest her head on Felicity's shoulder. "I know I say it too often, but drinking's not a bad idea. And sex with a hot stranger can't hurt."

"Don't get me started on how at least one of those, if not used in moderation, actually _could_ hurt, a  _lot_ …" Jennifer muttered. "Listen, you know we'll support whatever you decide to do. You want to stick this out, see what a relationship gets you, we'll be right there cheering you on. If you want to cut ties and never mention his name again, we'll pull a Harry Potter and call him He Who Shall Not Be Named. And if you want to do something else, something in-between, okay. Because, in the end, all we can do is give you our opinion and support whatever decision you make."

"Unless you make a really stupid decision, then we have to intervene…" Kelsey snorted. "Like that lacrosse player in freshman year, you remember?"

Felicity rolled his eyes. "I still don't think you needed to show up, scream at him about trespassing laws, and pepper spray him. It was a bit much."

Kelsey shrugged. "You do things your way, I'll do them my way. And creepy, stalkery, lacrosse boy needed a reminder that his behavior was not okay… Besides, that pepper-spray was just sitting around in my purse, unused, for far too long."

"You had it exactly two weeks. I remember when you got it. It was an impulse buy," Jennifer reminded.

"You say that like it's a bad thing, but all I hear is 'I'm jealous I didn't get to pepper-spray anybody,'" Kelsey sing-songed in return.

"We're not having that debate again," Felicity interrupted, raising a finger when Jennifer inhaled deeply to argue.

"Fine… for now." Jennifer shot Kelsey a look and then turned back to Felicity. "So? What do you think you'll do?"

"Yeah, are we pro-Oliver or anti-billionaire-dick?" Kelsey wondered.

Felicity looked between them and sighed. "I need a drink."

"Hallelujah, sister," Kelsey laughed.

* * *

"Should I be surprised, excited, or concerned that you're getting home this late?" Tommy asked as Oliver tried to quietly make his way to his room.

Oliver jumped at the sudden sound of his best friend, and turned, searching him out, only to find Tommy sitting on the island counter in his kitchen, a carton of milk in hand.

Oliver joined him, sighing to himself.

"That good, huh?" Tommy joked, raising an eyebrow.

"I just broke up with Laurel," he answered, pulling out a stool to take a seat.

"Again?" He snorted. "What's the tally now, anyway?"

Oliver shook his head. "No, it's final this time."

"Uh-huh." Tommy guzzled back the last of the milk before hopping down from the counter, circling the island, and tossing the carton into the garbage can beneath the sink. "Not to be a buzzkill, but I've heard that before."

Dragging a hand down his face, he scratched at his chin, frowning. "I kissed Felicity tonight."

Tommy's brows hiked as he walked closer. "Well, that's different." He waggled his hand back and forth. "Not hooking up with someone before or after a Laurel break-up so much as hooking up with someone you've actually got feelings for…" He rested his elbows on the counter and stared at Oliver curiously. "So, where does that leave you two?"

He winced. "I kissed her before I broke up with Laurel, and then I stopped kissing her to remind her that I was still in a relationship, but I didn't want to be, and would go and break up with her."

Tommy frowned. "Not the best way to start a relationship. But I've heard worse. Like, 'the test is positive.' That one's always a doozy."

Oliver sighed. "I was honest. I explained that I wanted to be with her and that it was a mistake to start things before I ended it with Laurel, but I was an idiot and I already had too much on my plate and every other excuse which doesn't hold much weight…" He rubbed his fingers into his eyes. "I asked her not to give up on me…"

"But…?"

"But why wouldn't she?" Oliver raised his head, already feeling defeated. "What the hell good am I to her anyway? I mean I'm not exactly prime stock for anyone, let alone someone like her…"

Eyes narrowed, Tommy pursed his lips. "Where's this sudden burst of self-loathing coming from, anyway?"

"Laurel just reminded me that I don't exactly have a great record with relationships, and I'm wondering if maybe not pursuing this thing with Felicity would be better for her."

Humming, Tommy nodded. "Sure. I get it."

Oliver blinked. "You do?"

"Yeah. I mean, Felicity's smart, gorgeous, loyal, funny, quirky, a little geeky, supportive… I could go on for ages, you know. In fact, if you hadn't seen her first, I think I'd be calling dibs. Might even take myself off the market for a catch like that."

Glowering now, he stared his grinning friend down. "Is there a point to this?"

"Well, when you look at the long list of what makes her a pretty awesome candidate for girlfriend, and then look at your history, it's not too pretty… So, I can see why you'd want to bow out, tail between your legs." Tommy pointed at him. "You know who'd be good for her? Carter Bowen. That guy's got it together, am I right?"

"He's a  _douche_. And Felicity doesn't need some uptight asshole like that. She needs someone who's actually going to care about her and what she says and what her day was like. Someone who'll walk her dogs with her and rub her hands after a long day and pick up her favorite wine and remember that she likes cherry flavored cough medicine and lemon tea. No way is Carter Bowen going to do that. He'd probably just sit around talking about all the ways he's so much better than other people. Narcissistic ass-hat."

Slowly, Tommy grinned. "So, problem solved then, right?"

"Huh?"

"Oliver, you're a shit boyfriend."

He snorted. "Thanks."

"Sorry. You were a shit boyfriend to Laurel, and probably anybody else you dated."

"Yeah, that really took the sting out," Oliver muttered sarcastically.

Tommy ignored him. "The difference here is that those people weren't Felicity and you've grown up a lot in the last few months. Like, so much that it puts me to shame a little, so maybe try to rein it in a little…"

His mouth twitched, his good humor starting to edge back in.

"I know you loved Laurel, but when you two got together, you were young and dumb and a jerk. A fun jerk, sure, but still a jerk. And with you and Laurel, I don't know, you just kind of stayed there. You were used to it, she was used to it, it was comfortable. But you're growing up, you're starting your own business, you're getting independent, and I don't know, man. I've never seen you like this —how you are with Felicity— with anybody else. So, I'm not guaranteeing it won't blow up in your face at some point, but… I don't know if walking away is the best choice. Even if it doesn't work out, you should still try. Might not go anywhere, but I think you'd regret it more if you never gave it a chance."

Oliver stared at him a long moment before he nodded. "Yeah… I probably would."

Tommy half-grinned, pushing off the counter. "Cool. Now, if you'll excuse me, I've got a hot Russian in my bed that I promised I'd get back to ten minutes ago."

Snorting, Oliver grinned as Tommy walked off, clapping his shoulder as he went.

Standing from the stool, he made his way to his own room, letting Tommy's advice roll around in his head.

He didn't know if Felicity would want to explore anything. He didn't know if she'd even want to be his friend after things happened. But he did know that he cared about her. Scratch that. He was  _in love_ with her. And even if she did slam the door in his face, and he wouldn't blame her if she did, he still needed to try.

Because maybe she wouldn't.

Maybe she'd give him a chance.

If anyone would, it'd be her.

He hoped.

* * *

The following morning, after taking Jasper for her morning run, Oliver made his way over to Felicity's apartment. He only lingered outside, psyching himself up, for five minutes before he gathered up his courage and went inside. He considered calling ahead but then decided the conversation needed to happen in person. If she told him she didn't want to talk, or she needed some more time, he would respect that. It would suck, but he wouldn't push her.

His palms were damp as he walked up the stairs; he wiped them on his jeans as he stood awkwardly in the elevator leading to her floor. Time seemed to be flying by. This was probably why he avoided doing important things, he decided. They made him nervous. The outcome to this felt like it was going to be life-changing and that… was really scary.

All too quickly, he found himself standing in front of her door, his fist raised to knock. He hesitated for just a moment before closing his eyes tightly and rapping his knuckles against her door.

There was nothing at first, no voice telling him to just hold on, no hurried feet rushing to the door, and he wondered if maybe he'd missed her. It was the weekend, so he wasn't sure if she'd taken Mario out for a walk. He checked the watch on his wrist, wondering if maybe dropping by the park to see if she was there was a good idea…

But then, just as he was getting anxious, the door swung open and his breath rushed out of him for a moment.

Her hair was pulled back in a neat ponytail, curls falling down her back and spilling over her grey-blue t-shirt.

His heart thudded in his chest as he watched her smile dim.

"Hi," he said, clearing his throat when his voice came out a little thick.

"Hi." Biting her lip, she reached up to adjust her glasses and glanced away. "I guess this is when we have that really awkward conversation…?"

He let out a stilted laugh, nodding slightly. "Yeah, uh…" He scratched his temple. "If—If you're up for that."

After a few second's hesitation, she pushed her door open wider and stepped back, making her way into her living room. He watched her as she walked away, his nerves frayed. Closing the door behind him, he followed after her, taking a seat in the arm chair next to her couch. He turned his eyes up slightly, thinking of the parallels to last night. Only Felicity knew why he was there, she knew what this conversation was about, while Laurel hadn't been expecting it to turn out the way it had.

He tapped a foot on the floor, staring his palms for a moment as he struggled with what he wanted to say.

Felicity had folded one of her legs under her and was picking at the frayed knee of her black jeans.

He turned to say something, pausing briefly when he saw the panda heads on her sock. A soft smile turned his lips and he shook his head, letting out a sigh.

When he finally turned his eyes up to her, he found her already looking at him.

"I'm a selfish person," he admitted. "I don't think it started out that way, not on purpose. I think… I  _know_ that I wanted my dad's attention, and when I didn't get it, I looked for it in other people. And when I found it, I held onto it, I abused it, and I never really deserved it… My whole relationship with Laurel was me fucking up at every chance, wondering how long it would take for her to give up on me, and she never did. And instead of realizing that I was hurting her and she didn't deserve it, I just kept screwing up, kept pushing those boundaries, waiting for the day she'd get tired of it. But she didn't, she always took me back, and the thing is… I don't even think she loves me anymore, I think she's just used to me. Used to being the adjusted one in the relationship and having to put me back together every time I got into trouble…"

He ground his teeth together and turned his eyes up. "It wasn't healthy and I knew that. I knew what we were doing to each other and how we stayed together, it wasn't good for either of us, but… I'm selfish. Everything with this club and my dad and realizing that I need to grow up, it's been hard, a lot harder than I ever expected, and I thought I could just ignore it. I thought I could deal with this stuff with Laurel later. But then…  _you_  were there. And I know it's not fair. I know I screwed this up before it started, but…" He turned to her, staring at her searchingly. "You're so important to me, Felicity. You're… You've been amazing and I… I tried to tell myself that my feelings for you weren't changing, but I think they always were. From the moment I met you, I think something was different, and I was always going to end up here. I know my timing sucks and I know I should've done this a different way, but I can't take it back now. I can't fix it, not completely. And I won't… I won't blame you if you don't want to be with me, but please don't shut me out. I don't… I'm still going to be selfish and ask you not to leave me completely."

Felicity stared at him a long moment before turning her eyes away. "You just missed Jennifer and Kelsey. They stayed over last night. I…" She shook her head, forcing a smile. "I was kind of a blubbering mess, actually."

He winced. "I'm sorry. I—"

"You had to go and break up with your girlfriend…" She nodded. "I know."

He pursed his lips for a moment, not quite sure what to say.

"The thing is, Oliver, I can't blame you completely. I… I knew you had a girlfriend. You told me about Laurel. I just… I don't know, I thought you broke up. I thought… He wouldn't do this, he wouldn't kiss me if he was with someone else…" She bit her lip when it started to tremble. "And that was my mistake. I never really asked. And I think… I think I wanted to believe that you wouldn't. That you broke up with her or you'd know better or  _something_ … So, I can't blame you for the kiss, not really. I was a willing participant in that."

He stared at her, slightly confused. "I feel like there's a 'but' coming…"

" _But_ …" She took a deep breath and turned to stare at him. "You're not ready for a relationship."

"I—"

"And I'm not sure I'm ready to be in one with you."

He closed his mouth.

"I won't deny that I feel something for you, because I do… I feel  _a lot_ , but you're going through a lot of personal stuff right now and you're figuring yourself out and I… I want to be there for you, as a friend, but I don't want to add to that pile." She shook her head. "I had this huge speech planned out where I told you that you're growing up and you're becoming someone that isn't the coward you think you are and the person I see you becoming is so, so wonderful. Because the man you are right now is already fifteen shades of awesome. And I've seen you grow, I've been there while you became someone completely different from who I first met in that break room, months ago." She licked her lips. "But you're still growing and you're still figuring out who you are in all of this. So maybe in a few months, I'm  _not_ going to be who you want to be with. Maybe you'll realize you and Laurel can try again and maybe you won't. And maybe you'll know that I  _am_  someone you want to be with. But maybe you won't. And the thing is… I know who I am and I know who I want. But I won't be a stepping stone in your recovery or your growth."

"You're not," he told her, his hands balling up into fists as he shifted forward in his seat. "Felicity, you're not a phase. You're not someone I'll grow out of, you're someone I want to grow  _with_. And I know I'll have to grow a lot faster to catch up, but I can get there. I can be where you are. I can be what you  _want_."

"You  _just_ got out of a relationship." She held up a hand. "Good or bad, it was a long-term relationship with someone you loved. You need to find out who you  _are_ out of that relationship before you can jump into a new one." She reached for him, her fingers curling down into his palm. "I'm not closing the door. I'm saying I don't think we should open it completely, not until you know for sure."

He squeezed her hand, holding onto it tightly. "And in a few months, when I still want to be with you?"

"Then we talk about it again."

A muscle in his jaw twitched. "This isn't just you trying to let me down nicely?" he wondered, trying for humor, but feeling a twinge in his heart that was anything but funny.

"Oliver…"

He looked up, meeting her eyes.

"We started this friendship with honesty; I wouldn't lie to you now."

He swallowed tightly. "I'm still gonna wanna be with you… What I said last night, how I feel about you, that isn't going to change. I know I have a lot of growing up still to do, and it's going to happen. With this club and my dad and just  _me_. But how I feel when I'm with you, how much I want you, I don't think that'll ever go away…"

She closed her eyes for a moment, when they were bright with tears, and then smiled at him. "Maybe it won't," she murmured.

"I can make this up to you… However long it takes, until I'm where I need to be, I can do that."

"As long as you're doing it for  _you_ …" She stared at him meaningfully. "You can't grow up for someone else. If you have problems with your dad, you need to work those out because  _you_ want to. If you want this club to succeed, you do everything to make that happen because it's  _your_ club and  _you_  deserve it. Because in the end, even if we get together, things change, life happens, and we might not make it a year, two years, ten years down the line… So, if you change your life, any single aspect of it, do it because  _you_ want that change. Even when I'm not there, when nobody is there but you, make sure that life is exactly what you want for yourself."

He nodded. "Okay."

He knew she was right. When wasn't she? If his life was going to do any real changing, it would have to be because he wanted it to. No more hiding from it. No more waiting for it to magically happen. Just like when he wanted his club to get off the ground, he and Tommy went out, every day, and made it happen. And there were things he still needed to work on. He had no idea who he was on his own. He didn't know who he was outside of a relationship with Laurel. Or maybe he did, but he'd never really recognized himself before. He'd always either been with her or been the bachelor that spent too much time in clubs, picking up anybody who was up for it. So this would be different. This would be him figuring out exactly where he stood in the world, without Laurel there to pick him up if he fell.

And maybe that was exactly what he needed. Because Laurel hadn't been completely wrong. He always screwed up somehow. He always found a way to make things worse for himself. And how would he feel if, in a few months, he ended up hurting Felicity just like he had Laurel? No. He needed this time to get his head straight. To focus on the club and where he wanted to be,  _who_ he wanted to be going forward.

Felicity wasn't promising she'd be there at the end, there was no satisfaction guarantee that came with anything he was doing, but that wasn't the point. He'd spent too much of his life avoiding anything that took work, anything that wasn't fun or easy, and now that had to change. Now he was going to open a club and grow up and hopefully end up being a happier, well-rounded person because of it. Did that mean he wasn't disappointed that she wasn't signing on board for all of it? No, of course not. Because one of the scarier parts was that he had no idea how long it would take for him to grow up and find himself. And a lot of things could change in a few months; his current circumstances were proof of that. So what if she moved on? Or gave up on him? Or stopped caring about his screwed up and wounded billionaire playboy shtick?

"Does this mean no more meeting up at the park to play fetch?" he wondered, half-smiling.

"You're not getting rid of me that easily…" She looked up at him earnestly. "I'll always be your friend, Oliver."

He swallowed thickly, a breath of relief caught in his throat. Because he did need her. Even if she never loved him like he did her. He still needed her in his life. "Good," he choked out. "Because Jasper's kind of attached to you."

"Is she?"

"Tiny bit."

"I'm a tiny bit attached to her, too," she replied, squeezing his hand.

He didn't know what happened after this, but he really hoped that, eventually, one day, when he came to her to tell her how he felt, she'd tell him she loved him, too, and that 'I'll always be your friend' would become 'I'll always be yours.'

For now, he could wait.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so, anybody who follows me on Tumblr knows that I took a hiatus from writing approximately a week ago. I was getting a little overwhelmed with asks about updates (on this fic specifically, but a few others, too) and just a constant flood of prompts. And I decided I needed a break from writing, because it was starting to take all of the fun out of it for me. The thing is, I love writing, especially for this ship. I spend 5-6 days in practicum and 3 of those are also days I spend in school. So, in between homework and late-nights running drop-in, I was writing, getting in as much as I could on the one day off that I had to myself. And I churn out a lot of fic - like, probably too much - which is something I'm proud of. But I don't ever want writing to become an obligation. I want it to continue to be something I love and enjoy sharing with everybody.
> 
> There's still a lot of this fic to be written and I am writing it. I'm overjoyed by how many people enjoy it. But I do ask that you be patient with me in terms of updates. I have three weeks left of school and I'm already extremely overwhelmed with things as they are. So you will get the next chapter of this and every other fic, but please don't ask me when or demand it immediately. I need time to write and that added pressure tends to turn me off writing.
> 
> Thank you all for reading! I hope you enjoyed this chapter! I know a lot of people were hoping that their relationship would start right away, but I feel that would do a disservice to them. Oliver is still figuring himself out and Felicity is a little worried about whether or not their relationship would be like his with Laurel's. He needs to do some more growing up. I will say, however, that they will continue to grow closer and some things happen that help move that along.
> 
> Lastly, don't be too hard on Laurel. She's being dumped (for like, the nth time) and told that there is no fixing it because Oliver's fallen in love with someone else while still in a relationship with her. She admitted she made some mistakes and he definitely has his share of mistakes in their relationship. Some of the things she said may be hard to hear, but she also wasn't completely wrong. Even if her lashing out was painful and even a little cruel in places. So please, no Laurel-bashing.
> 
> I hope you're looking forward to more! Please do leave a review; they're my lifeblood.
> 
> \- **Lee | Fina**

**Author's Note:**

> So after I wrote " **[sometimes it lasts in love (but sometimes it hurts instead)](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1113565)** ," I had a few people ask for a story where Oliver and Felicity found each other without the island and still fell in love. But as I started writing, I found myself exploring pre-island Oliver more and realized that he was pretty screwed up. He was selfish and self-absorbed and he didn't have any direction in his life, so this happened. Oliver's journey to finding himself without the island and meeting someone supportive and caring along the way. I have four chapters finished and at least one or two more to go to wrap things up, but yeah, this is basically done, so it hopefully won't interfere with the abundance of other Olicity stories I have on the go right now. Like, damn, I did not need to write another multi-chapter but this straight up refused to be a one-shot.
> 
> Anyway, I hope you enjoyed it! Please let me know what you think. Reviews are my lifeblood.
> 
> \- **Lee | Fina**


End file.
